


Dark Mage Roadtrip 1180

by idanato



Series: The Darkest Mage Timeline [6]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Time, Gen, Minor Character Death, No Beta, Past Violence, Patricide, Platonic Relationships, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trip, Underage Drinking, a not slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-08 10:09:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanato/pseuds/idanato
Summary: Hubert was really hoping this work trip to Enbarr to prepare for the governmental transition could do double duty as his first vacation ever. Unfortunately he doesn't even get through day 1 before his plans are upset by Lysithea showing up to crash his journey. They have a hit list: Varley, Aegir, Vestra and a deep desire for revenge.While they're taking care of this serious business...Lysithea attends her first Bergliez house party, the gang smokes Solon's weed, they go to Karaoke, and someone's getting laid.///Tags to be added as plot progresses; spoilers for Crimson Flower route/especially Chapters 11-12.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Hubert von Vestra, Dorothea Arnault/Hubert von Vestra, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Lysithea von Ordelia & Hubert von Vestra, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Lysithea von Ordelia, Lysithea von Ordelia & Hubert von Vestra
Series: The Darkest Mage Timeline [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536886
Comments: 33
Kudos: 102





	1. A Rocky Start

**Day 1**

No Lysithea, no Felix, no problems. Hubert breathed a sigh of relief as he unhitched his black horse, Ruin, and led her towards the front gates.

“Where are you off to?” The gatekeeper was always so pleasant.

“Home actually,” said Hubert. “Some family stuff to, uh, take care of.” That was one way of putting it: he was going to go dispose of his father. He hadn’t made a decision about what exactly to do with the Marquis, but suffice to say he’d no longer have any power when Hubert was through with him.

“Oh, well good luck!” said the gatekeeper as he waved.

Hubert paused, “Hey, if you see a short guy with dark blue hair, or a little girl with white hair, don’t let them leave the monastery, Seteth’s orders.”

“Thanks for the memo, _phew_, I wouldn’t want to upset Seteth!” said the gatekeeper.

That took care of his troublesome apprentices. Hubert set out on the road to Enbarr. He was on schedule to get there within a week if he kept a steady pace. He’d done the trip by warping before, but that was exhausting and a logistical nightmare, and he couldn’t warp his horse. He wouldn’t dare abandon poor Ruin at Garreg Mach with a battle coming and hope that he could retrieve her later. Nope, she was coming with him, coming home and staying safe.

He was tentatively looking forward to a whole week alone. It was poor timing that he had to be doing this in winter when the days were short and the scenery was sparse, but Hubert really enjoyed traveling. He wished that he was with Edelgard, but he understood why she was staying behind and coming later. She was going to try to get the professor to come with her. If Byleth agreed, and Hubert was far from convinced she would, they would travel in style by carriage. Hubert was relieved that Ladislava would be escorting the princess; he trusted they would have a safe trip when they finally left. 

Traveling alone through this part of Fodlan wasn’t very dangerous, but there was always a risk of bandits. Hubert took steps to make himself not look like an appealing target. He was no longer wearing his school uniform, but his plain travel clothes. Toasty wool britches, a dark waistcoat paired with a leather overcoat, a pleasantly warm red scarf and his new green knit cap courtesy of Bernadetta. His wore a very prominent dagger as a warning, and there were three more small throwing knives hidden on his person.

This was not a noble’s attire, but Hubert supposed he wasn’t much of a noble. People like Ferdinand and Lorenz, or Claude and Hilda, probably didn’t even realize how often they reminded him of his station with their comments. Not a commoner, but not like them. His family didn’t have territory or grand weath. They didn’t even have their own house but rather lived in the lower levels of the imperial palace in Enbarr. The von Vestras were servants of the emperor and no one ever let him forget it.

Edelgard was his friend, and if he was feeling bold, his soul mate. They were the Adrestian eagle, two heads and a shared heart. Yet people at this stupid school just called him her dog. His heart burned with bitterness as he considered how absolutely happy leaving Garreg Mach was making him in this moment. He would miss his fellow Black Eagles, and hoped to be reunited with them soon, but there was no love lost for the Golden Deer or Blue Lions.

Hubert deeply looked forward to interacting with some other people for the next week who didn’t know him and didn’t have preformed opinions about what he was. He could just relax, enjoy a beer, and the company of strangers. He had memorized his itinerary: he would alternate between sleeping at inns and sleeping on the road, for the next six days, and then on the seventh he’d arrive in Enbarr and go straight to the palace and get back to his duties and real life. This was Hubert’s first ‘vacation’ ever, and he dared to allow himself to be optimistic about it. He had a great book to read, a little extra spending money he’d scraped together to enjoy a fancy meal, his stuffed pegasus was repaired and safely stashed, and maybe, just maybe he’d get lucky on the road with someone who didn’t know or care that he was Hubert von Vestra.

***

Lysithea had to admit that when Hubert first walked into the inn, hair all tucked into his slouchy knit hat and cheeks a popping bright pink against pale skin from the cold, that she barely recognized him. He wasn’t dressed in his normal baggy school uniform anymore and his clothes, while incredibly plain and practical, were well tailored. He didn’t look like a student at all or a lost little noble, rather he looked a man who knew what he was doing and was where he belonged. She was jealous because she looked perfectly out of place. She knew enough not to wear her uniform but she had never traveled outside of school trips or the carriage ride with her parents to Garreg Mach when she first enrolled. She only had a few outfits outside of her school clothes and none of them were especially suited for traveling under the radar. She was currently in her little white and purple dress with white tights and a coat that wasn’t really all that suited for the weather. She had been going for mysterious woman traveling the countryside, but she looked like a little kid playing dress up in comparison to him and it drove her crazy.

She waited for him to go up to ask for his room before walking over and saddling up beside him.

“I have a reservation, under Rupert Underhill,” said Hubert awkwardly. The innkeeper nodded, found the name in the ledger, and went to retrieve the key to the room.

“_Psst_, Hubie,” she said as she tugged at his coat.

He looked down at her and did a double take, “What are you doing? Why are you here?”

“Road trip! Remember?” She smiled enthusiastically and pumped her fists in the air. “I told you I was coming with you.”

“Go back to school,” ordered Hubert.

“Nope,” said Lysithea. “You can’t make me.”

“Oh I’ll make you —” started Hubert threateningly.

The innkeeper had returned with the key and looked at Lysithea and then at Hubert with a scowl. He was retrieving a club from beneath the bar, “Did this man kidnap you?”

Hubert looked he was going to throw up. Lysithea, despite how much it annoyed her, looked much younger than fifteen, and he looked, well, older than twenty. He had a gotten a room with one small bed, this did not look very good for him.

Lysithea laughed, “Ha, no. He’s my manservant. Good old _Rupert_.”

Hubert glared at Lysithea and then looked back at the innkeeper, “I know I made the reservation for one, but is there a chance we could get switched to a room with two beds?”

“We’re full up,” growled the innkeeper. Of course they were.

“Floor it is,” muttered Hubert as he opened up his wallet. “I’m going to need a receipt.”

At dinner Lysithea watched Hubert pressing his fingers into his eyes, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to lower my blood pressure,” he groaned as he dropped his hands. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, it was really weird to see him dressed so casually and frankly almost like a rogue. He looked forlorn as his eyes traced around the room at all the people who looked suspiciously like soldiers pretending to be ordinary travelers.

She followed his gaze and narrowed her own, “Come on, a trip with a friend is much better than a trip alone!”

“Who said I was spending it alone?” Hubert hissed at her as their drinks came. He’d gotten himself ale, and for her…milk!

She frowned at the milk and frowned at him, “Seriously?”

“Do you want to get taller or not?” challenged Hubert. He smirked as he drank his beer, “That’s why I no longer touch the stuff.”

“I know it’s just because you’re lactose intolerant,” grumbled Lysithea.

“Well, that too,” sighed Hubert as their dinner — mystery meat stew — arrived. Hubert paid, “You know I didn’t budget for two people. Did you bring any money?”

Lysithea nodded and patted her purse, “I can help pay for stuff.”

“Make sure to get receipts, I’ll see if I can get you reimbursed as an official agent of the empire,” said Hubert as he tucked his own receipt for the meal into his neat little wallet.

Lysithea swung her legs as they ate, “If you weren’t going to be alone, who were you going to be with?”

“Oh,” said Hubert quietly with a shrug as he pushed a chunk of mystery meat around with his spoon, “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

She kicked him, “Who else is coming on this trip?”

“No one I hope,” said Hubert as he kicked her back. “Where’s Felix?”

“Back at school,” she shoved her spoon in her mouth, no need to give away any information about their plans to crash this road trip. She found however that she could not help but feel bad at how bummed out Hubert looked, and started to put it together, “Oh no, were you going to try to hook up with someone on this trip?”

Hubert didn’t say anything as he ate. He looked very resigned. Lysithea looked around at the full inn, these people all looked like soldiers and mercenaries, “Who the hell were you going to approach? These are all men.” She watched him growing red, “I thought you liked Petra —”

“Dorothea needs to stop telling people that,” grumbled Hubert angrily. “I don’t have a crush on Petra, I just like her as an ally.”

“Right,” said Lysithea not believing that for a second. Who could miss the way he spoke about Petra? He had almost as much adoration for her as Edelgard. “But, do you really like guys—”

“Lysithea, please do me a favor and shut the fuck up right now,” said Hubert in a whispered warning as his eyes nervously looked around the room. He sighed and pushed his spoon around, “I don’t know what I want. I didn’t like being with Monica, at all, but I did like the idea of being close to _someone_, even if it wasn’t real. That part was nice.” He sounded so sad for a moment reflecting on his fake romance with Kronya the Agarthan that Lysithea almost felt bad for him, when his voice hardened again and she remembered this was Hubert, “Now it looks like I’m spending my week babysitting you instead, so thanks a lot.”

“Whatever Hubie,” she hissed. This stew made her weirdly long for the terrible food at Garreg Mach. “Maybe I’ll help you in your quest —”

“No, you’re a baby, no, no, you’re dating Felix,” rambled Hubert in a panic.

“Eww,” she said in horror that he possibly thought she meant she would hook up with him. “No you idiot, I’ll be your wing woman!”

Hubert groaned, “Just drop it, please.”

Lysithea would drop it, for now. She made no promises for later though. She had roughly three days before the others were going to meet them. They only knew a few bits of Hubert’s travel plans. She had warped here to wait him out, the known first stop, and they had the name of the 3rd tavern he was staying at on Friday. That was the rendezvous point. If all of them showed up right away he’d turn back, but maybe if he only thought it was Lysithea tagging along he’d keep going to Enbarr. So far, so good.

Lysithea had packed light, but Hubert still insisted on carrying her bag up the stairs to the rented room. “Chop, chop Rupert,” she teased as she followed behind him. “How did you pick that name?”

“It’s the name of the character in the book I’m reading,” started Hubert.

“Oh you’re reading the_ Curse of the Vampire_ too? I couldn’t believe that it was his father the whole time that —”

Hubert turned and gave her the most unpleasant look, “I just started it, I was saving it for this trip.”

“Oh, I see,” she said feeling badly that she had just spoiled the plot’s major twist. “Sorry.”

Hubert grumbled as he opened the preciously tiny room. He had said he was on a budget, and clearly it was quite tight. The bed didn’t look big enough for one person and there was no fireplace.

“Get changed, I’m going to go use the outhouse,” announced Hubert unceremoniously.

Outhouses, eh, gross. Lysithea had only just gotten used to camping during the school missions. Now she realized in horror that she was going to have to poop at some point on this trip, and Hubert might be nearby when she did. That had not crossed her mind when planning on crashing this journey. She tried her best not to worry about it.

She cozied into her thick flannel nightgown and waited for him to get back. He didn’t seem to be in a better mood, “How was it! Productive?”

“It’s a hole in the ground,” he said unamused by her line of questioning. “Are you going to go?”

“Oh, I don’t have to,” she said as she fluffed up the pillow on the bed.

Hubert’s nostrils flared, “Can you at least try? That way I can have some privacy to change in the room I thought I’d be sleeping in alone?”

“But it’s dark out,” said Lysithea looking out of the window at the night. She realized that she had a very real fear that someone might come by and try to snatch her while she was distracted.

Hubert shut his eyes. “Do you need me to escort you to the outhouse?”

“Uh, I mean, Rupert the manservant would,” said Lysithea trying not to sound scared of the dark.

Hubert rubbed his temples, “You know Dark Spikes, you killed the Death Knight for crying out loud, why are you afraid?”

“What if I get surprised while I’m going —” Lysithea wasn’t sure if embarrassment could be fatal or not but she suddenly felt close to dying of shame.

Hubert pointed at the door, “Come on, now.”

At the very least Lysithea was able to get her embarrassment of pooping within ear shot of Hubert out of the way very quickly. They came back and Hubert demanded that she not peek as he changed into his pajamas. She had made that mistake once and had no desire to accidentally glimpse Hubert’s pasty butt cheek ever again.

He sighed as he laid his pillow on the floor. There weren’t any extra blankets. He blew out the candle, “Go to sleep.”

There was an annoying sound keeping her awake. “Hubert, I can hear you teeth chattering,” started Lysithea reluctantly. How was she supposed to fall asleep as he noisily froze to death on the floor? She groaned as she prepared herself to do the nice thing, “Do you, do you want to share the bed?”

“No,” said Hubert from the floor. She looked over the edge of the mattress at him. His skin had goosebumps all over it despite the massive sweater he was wearing.

“I won’t tell anyone, ever,” promised Lysithea. Why would she ever want to admit to this?

“It’s fine,” grumbled Hubert.

“Just get in the bed, we’ll sleep back to back,” she said getting mad that he was being so stubborn.

He made some sound from deep in his throat as he got up with his pillow under one arm and stuffed pegasus under the other. Lysithea quickly rolled over as Hubert squeezed into the tight twin. His big feet overhung the edge.

He was freezing as she bumped into him trying to get comfortable. “Why are you so bony?” she complained as she tried to grab some extra blanket.

“Why are you so annoying?” he countered as he stole his fair share of blanket back.

She settled into her small spot and felt a grin crossing her face. She spoke in a super sweet voice, “I hate you.”

“Hate you too,” grumbled Hubert. “Have a bad night.”


	2. Returned, Tenfold.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert and Lysithea travel and each reflect on formative events from their pasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each new day begins with Hubert's dreams, things might get increasingly smutty/silly, you have been warned.

**Day 2**

Hubert had been having a wonderful dream when he woke up into the horrible nightmare that was his current situation. He was freezing; Lysithea was a no good dirty blanket thief who had managed to act like a fork in spaghetti and twist the blanket perfectly around herself sometime in the night. Despite being wrapped up and warm, her arms still extended wide like she was about to receive a great big hug. One of those arms had smacked across the side of his face, slapping him from sleep.

Hubert thought briefly about just shoving her off the bed and acting like she had rolled herself off. She was so effectively bundled she probably wouldn’t even get hurt much. Yet she would undoubtedly wake up, which took him to his next predicament. Hubert’s dream had taken him back to when Dorothea had demonstrated her seduction techniques on him in the Goddess Tower, but instead of ending with her pretending to push him out the window, the dream had just allowed things to keep going between them. His body apparently hadn’t gotten the hint that the dream was over and it was time to get up. If he had just an ounce of privacy, he could have taken a few minutes to indulge in imagining how he had wanted things to end, but no, he was denied that too.

Damn Dorothea for stirring up a part of him he’d been happy to leave dormant. Damn her for showing him what it felt like for someone to be interested. She’d only been acting, and so she got to waltz away like nothing had happened. It had been real for him, and now he couldn’t get away from it. His body -- and maybe if he allowed himself to be honest for once, his heart -- was aching for more of that feeling. She might as well have just pushed him from that window because Hubert was falling and desperate for someone, anyone, to catch him.

This vacation was supposed to have been the chance to cure himself of this need, this weakness. He had a debilitating fear of being intimate with someone, but Dorothea had taken a sledgehammer to the carefully constructed wall he'd built around the very human need to be touched by others. Hubert felt like if he could just get _it_ over with he could safely toss physical closeness into the pile of things he didn’t care about. However that was just going to have to wait thanks to Lysithea showing up and crashing his trip. Maybe he’d get a second chance at a vacation in another fifteen years.

Right now, he had a literally pressing situation to deal with. Luckily, thinking about Monica/Kronya was an amazing antidote for arousal. Simply recalling her gross rotting saliva was enough to kill off any hope in Hubert’s loins and let him mercifully get up without Lysithea ever even knowing what morning wood was. He’d let her find out about that from someone she actually cared about, hopefully many years from now.

Hubert got dressed and got his things together. He’d leave to get food so Lysithea could have the privacy he so desperately craved, but first he was going to wake her up so they could hit the road in a timely fashion. Hubert ripped the blanket up causing her to spin out and nearly fall off the bed, “Hey jerk face, wake up.”

She yelled out in surprise at the rude awakening and took a few moments to figure out where she was and what was going on. She frowned and snatched back the blanket, “What was that for?”

It was for, well, because he was pissed off. Did he need a better reason? “What do you want for breakfast?” His patience was preciously thin right now.

“I don’t know, what do they have?”

“Do I look like a menu?” demanded Hubert. _Oof_, today was starting rough even by his standards.

“I’ll eat whatever,” she grumbled. He rolled his eyes and made his exit.

It turned out the inn had hard boiled eggs and a lukewarm porridge. The coffee was nothing to brag about but at least they had it.

Lysithea came down, back in that ridiculous dress. He was hoping she’d pull some actual suitable travel clothes out of that light bag of hers but he was pretty sure she’d never traveled on her own before. She probably had no idea that her ridiculous bell sleeves weren’t sewn with the road in mind. This wasn’t a fashion show, he had places to be.

She made a face at the porridge but one look from Hubert had her at least trying to eat it. He wanted to know how she had gotten here ahead of him in the first place, “So did you bring a horse?”

“I actually warped here,” she admitted.

Fucking perfect. “So what is your plan, to ride with me?”

“I’m small,” she said.

“Not really,” snipped Hubert. The two of them probably the evened out to the same mass as two average sized people. That wasn’t really very fair to Ruin. He looked at her outfit, “And you’re going to wear those little tights, not pants?”

Lysithea looked offended, “What’s wrong with them?”

Oh, Hubert was so ready to lecture her. He held up his fingers as he rattled off the points, “It’s cold out and they’re too thin; you look like I stole you from a nursery; you’re going to get chaffed in places I won’t describe, I’m sorry shall I continue?”

Lysithea had gone red in the face, especially at the nursery comment. Good, it had landed just as intended. He finished his coffee, “Shall I tell you what I think about your heels and that thin little coat of yours?”

“No,” said Lysithea darkly. “Can’t I just buy new clothes?”

Hubert gestured around the inn. It was much quieter and emptier than the previous night. “Please, by all means.”

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” said Lysithea under her breath.

“Well I wouldn’t have been forced to a side if someone hadn’t shown up uninvited,” seethed Hubert.

“Are you just being really mean to trick me into going back to Garreg Mach?” She smirked like she had solved some impossible riddle.

“I assure you my malice is just pure spite, no underlying motivation but to emotionally injure you,” promised Hubert. He checked his pocket watch, “Hurry up, we’re losing daylight.”

Hubert sighed as she took her time getting into the stables. He presented her a pair of his uniform pants that he’d hung onto. She stared at them dubiously, “What are these for?”

“To protect your precious little tights from getting torn up, and to keep you warm,” said Hubert impatiently. He wasn’t going to listen to her complain about how cold she was for the next six days.

“And you want me to wear these?” she gave them a suspicious sniff, “When was the last time you washed these?”

“They’re clean enough,” said Hubert. Hubert made sure his and Lady Edelgard’s uniforms were always fresh. Maybe he hadn’t laundered these before packing them, but they were hardly more than a couple of wears since their last wash.

“You don’t wear underwear though,” she said with a frown.

“And how the fuck do you know that?” Was nothing sacred these days? Hubert’s underwear or lack there of was his private business.

She did not respond and pulled on the pants. He then wrapped a wool blanket around her. “What is this for?” she protested as he pulled out an old belt and used it to secure the blanket like some sort of poncho coat. She looked utterly ridiculous as he lifted her up to put her on the horse.

“It’s winter,” said Hubert unamused by her choice of gear. She had come looking ready to go vacation in Morfis, not ride through the countryside to Enbarr. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to freeze to death he climbed up onto Ruin and adjusted to sitting behind someone in the saddle rather than alone. He hadn’t ridden like this since he was a child with Edelgard.

They were able to ride in silence for all of five minutes before Lysithea’s talking broke the peaceful calm.

“You’ve been rather punchy this morning,” she said slowly.

He adjusted the reins as an excuse to jostle her a bit with his elbows, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Have you ever punched anyone in the face?”

“Oh, Ferdinand,” said Hubert casually. He took great pleasure in recalling the utter look of shock and surprise on the young von Aegir’s face when he’d done it.

“Really! When, like at school?”

“No, it was a long time ago. I was ten, Ferdinand was eight,” said Hubert.

“What did he do?” She sounded super eager to hear about their fight.

Ferdinand had earned that punch. Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers spent a great of time together carrying out the Insurrection of the Seven in which Ionius IX was stripped of power. With Edelgard spirited away to Faerghus, Hubert was often at his father’s side including going to the von Aegir’s mansion in Enbarr. “It was just after the insurrection. Ferdinand suggested that because Edelgard was gone I would be his vassal instead. Then he started listing all the ways in which he was better than her,” said Hubert. “So I punched him in the face.”

“What a little shit,” laughed Lysithea.

“I know!” agreed Hubert. He didn’t laugh with her though, “My father told me that if I was ready to start hitting boys in the face, that I better be ready to be hit back.” Hubert took a deep breath as he remembered the force his father had assailed him with, “I never punched anyone again.”

His throat tightened at the memory of sobbing while simultaneously fighting the shame that he was crying at the pain, and shakily pushing his hair over his right eye to hide the evidence as he pulled himself together in the von Aegir’s powder room. He swore his right eye never looked quite the same after it healed, but he had no proof. It was completely possible he’d always been this asymmetrical and ugly. It wasn’t as if there were any portraits of him as a kid to compare.

Hubert had run away the very next morning determined to find Edelgard. He could still recall the logic of his 10 year old brain that supposed he would prove himself so loyal that Lord Arundel would be forced to welcome him into the family and adopt him away from the von Vestras so he could be with Edelgard forever. He would be the perfect vassal, the perfect protector, the perfect big brother. He made it three days, which in retrospect, was actually pretty impressive considering there were imperial soldiers on his tail.

He had never been strong as a child, but he had made up for it in being ruthlessly resourceful, creative, and determined. He’d given those soldiers a really hard time. The poor sap left in charge of watching over him once he was caught and on their way back to Enbarr actually called him clever. Clever little bastard, but clever nonetheless.

Hubert’s father had not found him clever. The Marquis was widely considered a very fair and honorable man. He doled out justice that took what one did and returned it to them tenfold. He generously rewarded success and harshly punished failure. So when Hubert punched little Ferdinand with as much might as his weak child fists could muster, the Marquis had punched Hubert with as much might as his cavalier mitts could produce. When Hubert ran away for three days, well the Marquis had countered that if Hubert did not like living in a palace, he could see what it was like living on the streets, not for three days but thirty. Never one to miss an educational opportunity, young Hubert had learned a number of important lessons in that strange chaotic month. How to lie, how to steal, where to stab, and how not to feel.

Hubert recognized now that he had probably never been in any real danger, but it had felt very real at the time. His father must have had him followed because as soon as thirty days was up, he was immediately plucked up from the gutter and given a bath. He was returned to dine with his father in silence in their private apartments within the palace and nothing was ever spoken of it again. Looking back on it, Hubert thought this was a very inappropriate way to punish a child.

“Hubert, Hubie, Hubone, stop ignoring me,” Lysithea’s voice helped pull him back from the very unpleasant trip down memory lane. “What’s our route?”

“We’re stopping by the Varley territory tomorrow,” said Hubert with a distinct distaste filling his mouth at the memory of what Bernadetta had told him about her father. “Then we go to Aegir’s territory, then we go to Enbarr.” He had his little hit list ready: Count Varley, Prime Minister von Aegir, and lastly Marquis von Vestra. He was saving his father for last because he honestly had no idea what to do with the man. He hoped he would figure it out soon.

***

Lysithea had been wondering why Hubert had allocated seven whole days to make the trip to Enbarr and now she understood why. He wasn’t going there directly. That was a bit of a problem for her plans to meet up with Felix and Dorothea, who were traveling a direct path hoping to intercept them. However, if Hubert kept to his precious itinerary which she was pretty sure he would, they would all cross paths in the Hervring territory on Friday. It was Tuesday, Lysithea only had to get through two and a half more days alone with Hubert. He was being a huge grumpy pain in the ass, but she was used to that by now.

Hubert complained every time she asked for a break from riding. She couldn’t help she had a small bladder and he kept preaching the importance of adequate hydration. They were camping tonight and at least Lysithea was ready for that. Her bag was mostly blankets and her pillow. They stopped with a little bit of daylight left and Hubert set her to work gathering up firewood and filling their canteens while he got their dinner together.

Hubert’s cooking skills were just okay, but Lysithea did not think that commenting on it was especially welcomed right now. After they ate, she saw him trying to read _Curse of the Vampire_ and getting frustrated, no doubt because he was seeing all the expertly hidden clues that pointed to the major twist that she’d spoiled for him. It was one of those books that slowly gave you everything you needed to solve the mystery, and then smacked you with the reveal and made you feel dumb for not seeing it the whole time. Lysithea had been so impressed by how masterfully the author had managed it, and she was sorry that Hubert was no longer able to feel that same thrill.

Eventually he gave up all together and just started looking at the stars.

Lysithea put her head next to Hubert’s so she could see the same patch of sky, “What are you looking at?”

“The constellations,” he whispered as he pointed so she could follow. “That one’s Gautier, and Gloucester.”

“Of course they’re crests,” she sighed. She had never been one for astronomy.

“Everything is about crests,” said Hubert quietly.

She looked at Hubert realizing she had no idea if he had one, “Do the von Vestra’s have a crest?”

“Nope,” said Hubert. He didn’t seem especially broken up about it. He sighed, “I know what was done to you.”

Lysithea tensed up at the admission, “Did Felix tell you?” She was going to murder-break up with him in true Hubert x Kronya style.

“No, he didn’t tell me,” said Hubert. “Do you remember coming to Enbarr?”

Lysithea did not. “I’ve never been there.”

“Yes, you have,” whispered Hubert. “But you were really young, maybe only four years old.”

“I think my parents would have mentioned this if it happened,” started Lysithea in a matter of fact tone.

“Your dad is really short with dark hair and glasses. Your mom is just a little taller than him, with pale pink hair and eyes like yours,” said Hubert describing them perfectly.

Lysithea felt a growing feeling of dread, “How do you know that?”

“The slithers brought you to Ionius, to show him proof of what they did,” explained Hubert. “You cried a lot. Edelgard took to you though. She thought you were just adorable.”

“And what about you?” demanded Lysithea as she pinched him.

“I was very annoyed because I found myself taking care of two small children instead of one,” said Hubert. He paused for a while and then sounded a little ill as he continued, “I think what happened to you and your family started the Insurrection.”

“What do you mean?” Her parents rarely talk about what had happened, and had retreated into isolation in their shrinking territory. They feared the outside world, and were content to leave it alone in the hopes it would leave them alone.

“Ionius had gotten a means of really controlling the nobility, through their crests,” whispered Hubert. “And so they banded together and removed him from power.” Hubert’s voice became very low, “And I know it’s treason, but I think they were right in doing that.”

Lysithea had never heard Hubert ever speak out against the Empire. Slithers sure, he hated them more than anything, but the Empire? Hubert was it’s most loyal subject.

“The slithers did leave us alone after the insurrection,” said Lysithea, an anger burning up in her, “They told my parents to start arranging my funeral.”

Hubert made some sound between a gasp and sniffle as he found her hand in the dark and squeezed it. “They left you because they were focusing on a new project.”

“And what was that?”

“The imperial children,” whispered Hubert sounding honestly terrified by the truth. “My father saw Ionius take your family’s children away, and so he though the only just punishment was taking the emperor’s own and subjecting them to the same.”

Lysithea had always suspected, but now she had confirmation. She and Edelgard had the same white hair because they had undergone the same dark blood experiments. The princess must have two crests as well. Yet to think that perhaps the tragedy of her house might be connected with the Insurrection of the Seven had never crossed her mind. She'd always yearned for revenge, but she'd never considered it might be paid with lives of another's family's children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, Hubert and Lysithea pay Count Varley a long overdo visit. >:)


	3. The von Varley Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert's dreams continue to get more intense, the duo visits Count Varley to inform him of his new reality, and Randolph Bergliez wants to do shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere apologies to people who like Dedue and think he's to pure for what's happening in Hubert's head.

**Day 3**

Another morning, another dangerous dream. This time, Hubert’s brain decided to extrapolate on Hilda’s unsuccessful threesome solicitation. It started innocently enough before the dream versions of the two strong retainers decided to gang up on him. Hilda and her great big biceps held him down while she attempted to suffocate him between her thighs, and Dedue punished Hubert’s other serviceable hole. He woke up practically gasping for air and possessed with mortal terror at the idea of the two impossibly ripped retainers trying to use him until he was broken. The real Dedue would never be so rough, but Hubert felt like dream Hilda had been fairly accurate.

He looked over at the snoring lump of blankets that was Lysithea, and decided she was far enough away and sounded asleep enough that he could safely take care of this. Hubert tried to relax and pictured himself with face to face Hilda. He found her equal parts attractive and insufferable. He tried to envision sliding inside her, and then he tried to imagine, at the same time, Dedue de-doing him from behind. His brain didn’t care about the physics of it all, it currently didn’t have enough blood in it right now to figure out if the arrangement would work. Hubert permitted himself a soft throaty moan as he finished.

“Ew, gross!” emitted the lump of blankets in protest against what he had thought was a quiet noise.

Hubert cringed and hoped she never spoke of this ever. Hubert pulled himself up to cook breakfast, hopefully bacon was an adequate “_sorry for jerking off ten feet away from you when you seemed asleep_” gesture. Dammit Lysithea, he was on vacation and he had needs! At least he was in a better mood now than yesterday, which was important because today was a big day.

They were almost to the Varley estate. Hubert made sure to walk through some extra mud for when they got there and psyched himself up for what was sure to be an unpleasant exchange. When Bernadetta had said she wouldn’t execute her father, she hadn’t explicitly forbade Hubert from doing it but he didn’t want to just ignore her opinion completely. Instead, he had thought up things that would make Count Varley wish he was being executed. It was important to find agreeable compromises in politics.

***

Hubert, in his dusty travel wear, looked offensively out of place in the von Varley’s fancy foyer. Lysithea wondered if she might ask to borrow some of Bernadetta’s clothes for the rest of the journey when all this was done. Countess Varley was regarding them both with a quiet tremor in her voice, “I’ll go get my husband.”

“Much appreciated Countess,” said Hubert pleasantly with a smile as he lightly kicked some mud off his shoe onto a very expensive looking rug.

Count Varley was a blustering bore who came down the stairs in a huff at them, “What is the meaning of this, who are you scoundrels?”

Hubert cracked a small grin as he bowed deeply, “Count Varley, I am deeply sorry for this intrusion.” He produced his wallet and pulled out a ornate badge with the golden Adrestian eagle emblazoned upon it. “My name is Hubert von Vestra and —”

“Vestra,” snapped Count Varley. “You’re von Vestra’s son? Why the hell are you here, and who is this?” Count Varley gave Lysithea an unimpressed once over with a shake of his head.

“This is my lovely assistant, Lysithea von Ordelia,” said Hubert as he put a protective hand around Lysithea’s shoulder. She gave her finest courtesy and smiled brightly.

“You could have at least had the decency to bathe before coming here,” snapped Count Varley as he looked at them and all the mud they’d tracked in.

Hubert looked down at their extremely muddy shoes, “Oh my, I am so sorry Count Varley, Ms. von Ordelia and I have been traveling now for several days to conduct this business —”

Count Varley cut him off again, “Come back once you’ve cleaned up, only then can I receive you.”

Lysithea watched as Hubert’s tongue traced along his teeth as he paused. “I’m afraid our business here cannot wait, and will be conducted whether you deign to receive us or not.”

“I will be speaking to your father about this insolence,” snapped Varley angrily.

“Is that supposed to scare me Count Varley?” asked Hubert with an amused chuckle. His eyes were aflame and Lysithea was eager to see his performance. Hubert glanced down at her with a small smile, “Do you suppose the Count enjoys scaring people?”

Lysithea looked at the Count and looked back at Hubert, “Indeed! That is the only way to explain his choice in haircut —”

The Count sputtered as his face became beet red, “I don’t appreciate these games!”

“Oh you don’t enjoy games Varley?” Asked Hubert as he tugged at his dark leather gloves, “Because I learned of the most wonderful game from your daughter.”

“You, you dare to speak to my daughter? This is outrageous, you are barely a noble, you should not even look at her,” snapped the Count.

Lysithea caught Hubert’s eye twitching in rage and she took that as her cue to open her bag up and produce the rope. Hubert accepted it with glee, “Lysithea you are simply my favorite assistant. Thank you so much.” He snapped the rope, “Bernadetta told me that you played a game with her, what was it again, oh that’s right. I believe it was called leave Bernadetta tied to the chair and see how long she can stay silent? Yes that was it.”

Count Varley had gone from red to white as he looked at the rope and Hubert stepping closer. Hubert was laughing as he spoke, which only made him seem all the more deranged, “Perhaps I just do not understand games because I do not see the fun in that. But, seeing as it is your favorite game, I thought we might play, but instead of abusing your daughter or her mother, I think it is time that I play with you.”

Count Varley bolted and Hubert did not hesitate to hit him with a very forceful spell. Hubert walked over and picked up Varley’s head by his thinning purple hair, “Oh Count Varley, you are not being a very good sport.” He hauled Varley up and looked at the plush chair options, “Ah, these seem a little too comfortable.”

Lysithea raced to follow after them as Hubert drug Varley through a servant’s door into the plain halls that lived behind the grandeur. A maid peeped in fear as she got out of their way. Hubert seemed to a have a good idea of how the servant’s corridors operated as he threw Varley down a set of stairs. The count crashed down into a kitchen while Hubert strode down the stairs still snapping his rope.

Varley attempted to crawl to safety but Hubert was very fast, and very strong. “This is probably not a very familiar part of your estate to you Varley. This is where you servants take their quick meals. What is it again, seven minutes to eat and not a minute more? Yes, this is where they live as you work them to the bone. This is where Empire spies first entered your home.”

Hubert smiled broadly as he put the struggling count into a plain wooden chair and began to tie him to it. The Count was yelling about how he was going to have Hubert whipped in the streets for this. Hubert smiled at Lysithea, “Ms. von Ordelia, will you do me the honor of getting him gagged? I know you enjoy that part so very much.”

Lysithea beamed as she pulled out the gag and smacked Count Varley in the face with an open hand slap before shutting him up. He continued to spout muffled protests.

Hubert and Lysithea sat up on the unfinished wood table where the servants took their rapid meals. Hubert folded his arms and admired the count strapped to the chair while Lysithea hummed a tune and swung her legs. Both of them kept their eyes wide and crazy as they stared at him.

Hubert sighed, “Yes, we’ve had people in your home for a while now. People who pretended to be scared of you, when you went on your rants and rages, but were not scared when they helped your wife smuggle your daughter to Garreg Mach. People who were not scared as they snuck into your offices and peeked at your books. I like people who don’t scare easy, and who are very good at math.” Hubert looked energized as he hopped down, “Count Varley,_ tsk tsk_. You’ve been skimming from funds that belong to the Empire to continue to guild your gaudy home and line your greedy pockets. For that you are now under house arrest.” Hubert bent over and put his hands on Varley’s shoulders and leaned his face in very close so that Varley was forced to be eye to eye mere inches from Hubert’s face, “If that was all you had done, you might have eventually regained your post. But since Bernadetta told me all about you and the games you like, I wanted to make sure you can play your favorite every day.” Hubert’s smile practically went to his ears, “Get used to this chair Varley, you won’t be leaving it. Now, if it were up to me, I’d just kill you right now, but dear Bernadetta said that she would prefer you not be executed. I assume this is because she’s a good person despite all you’ve done to her. So I will leave you alive to enjoy your house arrest.”

He pulled back and looked up at the ceiling where above him the grand mansion sprawled, “Your wife will go to Enbarr to represent your house until your daughter takes the helm. You will be here, not alone, but with jailers I selected myself. Even if you retained your ill gotten gains, I assure these are jailers that cannot be bought off. No, they have been informed of what you do to your daughter and what you do to your wife when you think no one is looking because the only people there are servants. Those commoners, the one you act like you cannot see, well they have seen you Varley.” Hubert looked like he had never been so elated, “Your jailers will enjoy this game very much. I’ve even given them the liberty of making some new rules as they see fit. I wouldn’t want things to get boring while you learn to be a submissive lord.”

***

The recently liberated Countess Varley had no suitable travel clothes to lend Lysithea from Bernadetta’s messy closet. However, Hubert was resourceful and paid one of the smaller valets for his travel clothes. Countess Varley, who shared many quiet hobbies with her daughter including sewing and embroidery, made some quick alterations. That was how Lysithea came to dress as a short white haired version of Hubert for the rest of the trip.

She had never really worn pants before and she liked how much motion she could do as she skipped and jumped without fear of flashing any of her underthings. The Countess had one more generous gift, a loaner horse. Lysithea was delighted, she liked Ruin just fine but did not enjoy Hubert right behind her. Now they could ride in style to their next stop in the Bergliez territory.

They arrived a bit later than Hubert intended and it was already dark out. Lysithea was glad to get into the meeting place and in from the cold. They appeared to be in army barracks, and had arrived at a nice little outpost. Both mages eagerly sought out the fireplace and warmed themselves up as they waited for their hosts for the evening.

Lysithea gaped as Randolph Bergliez threw Hubert into an affectionate headlock and ripped off his hat to ruffle the mages hair. “Hubert! Glad you finally showed up, we were getting worried.”

Hubert was fighting his way free of Randolph’s grip and grabbing his hat back, “We stayed at the Varley’s longer than I meant to --”

“And who is this?” Randolph swept Lysithea up into a sudden hug that had her flailing to get back to the ground.

“Lysithea von Ordelia, and don’t forget it,” she said as she struggled against the bone crushing greeting.

Randolph was like a slightly older Caspar. Not necessarily more mature, just older. He dropped her back onto the ground and patted her head.

“Congratulations on your engagement,” said Hubert as he tried to get his hair back into his hat. It stubbornly stayed in front of his right eye.

“Oh thank you! We’re very excited,” said Randolph enthusiastically. He affectionately smacked Hubert in the chest, “Ladislava wants to wait until the summer for the ceremony. What about you, when can I expect a von Vestra wedding?”

“Never,” muttered Hubert.

“Well you know, you’re one of the few people I would trust dating my sister --” He had his hand tight on Hubert’s shoulder, dragging the taller mage down and pointing at the young woman that Lysithea assumed was Randolph’s sister.

“Hi Fleche,” said Hubert with a weak wave to the very shy looking girl in armor.

“Hi Hubert,” said Fleche, looking super embarrassed by her brother.

Hubert was quickly back to business, “Is everything in place for tomorrow?”

“Calm down, you can relax, everything’s under control,” smiled Randolph.

“I don’t relax,” said Hubert as he pulled out some paperwork from his wallet. “We need to make sure that he doesn’t know we’re coming --”

“Hubert, I understand the severity of the situation,” said Randolph, finally sounding like a military commander and not a goofy Bergliez. “Seriously though, you need to unwind, I can feel the knots in your trapezius --”

Hubert shook him off his shoulder, “I’m fine. We need to set out by 7 am --”

Randolph interrupted him again, “We know the plan! My troops will be ready to go at 6:30 am sharp! We will do our new Emperor proud, but we don’t have to be working tonight! Come on, I want to take you, and your, who are you again?”

“Lysithea, and I’m his assistant,” said Lysithea as she crossed her arms. She was taking this job more seriously than she thought she would.

“Oh Hubert it’s about time you got an assistant,” said Randolph approvingly. “I get worried when Ladislava tells me all the stuff you’re doing --”

Hubert waved him off, “I don’t need an assistant,” he paused, “But she’s been a big help so far.”

Lysithea smiled at the rare compliment. Randolph insisted that they visit the nearest pub to celebrate Hubert and Lysithea’s safe arrival. Lysithea learned they were at an Imperial army base near the border of the Bergliez and Aegir territory.

At the bar Randolph kept trying to get Hubert to take shots, but the mage kept declining. Lysithea was almost offered one until Hubert gave Randolph a very dark warning look. Lysithea goaded Hubert into accepting Randolph’s challenge to arm wrestle and cracked up as he was resoundingly beaten three times in a row.

“It’s like this every time I come here,” complained Hubert to Lysithea over the noise of the rambunctious tavern. “Like a whole family of Caspars, I swear.”

“So what’s the deal with you and Fleche?” asked Lysithea when she was sure the young woman was out of earshot.

“There’s no deal, Randolph is just protective and he likes me, so he tries to set us up with each other all the time,” said Hubert.

Hubert actually seemed very popular here which was shocking. “Why does he like you so much?”

“Thanks,” said Hubert dryly.

“Well, seriously, I’m not trying to be mean but you’re not very popular at school,” said Lysithea. Hubert was easily the least popular person in the officer’s academy. In fact, she could not think of anyone the student body was so uniformly opinionated about.

“Oh no I’m not?” laughed Hubert sarcastically. “You mean I won’t be the next queen of the ball?”

“But here it’s so different, I think Randolph’s even trying to impress you,” exclaimed Lysithea. She wished people would go out of there way to show her how much they liked her.

Hubert shrugged indifferently, “I never stood a chance at Garreg Mach. Out here I do my job, and I do it _very_ well. That’s why people like me.”

“What do you mean you never stood a chance?” She felt like Hubert had never given any of their classmates a chance, not the other way round.

Hubert looked uncomfortable, “Well, I’m older, I don’t have a crest, and the only reason I was admitted was because I’m Edelgard’s retainer. And I’m not exactly easy to get along with.”

“Tell that to Randolph,” muttered Lysithea as the persistent Bergliez came by with another round of shots. She gestured to Hubert, “Why weren’t you like this at school? Maybe people would have liked you.”

“I was like this,” protested Hubert. “Just no one bothered to get to know me.”

“That’s not true —”

One of Hubert’s thin eye brows raised up, “Seriously? You were willing to believe I was the Death Knight.”

Hubert sighed and plucked one of the shots from Randolph’s tray of them, Bergliez cheered “Hubes, finally!”

Hubert took the shot and set the empty little glass on their table, “I’m not always pleasant, but I’m not always unpleasant. Maybe I was more unpleasant than usual at school, but it’s hard to be nice when people have already written you off before you even open your mouth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize Caspar and Randolph are not blood relatives, but I feel strongly that the Bergliez's are the party house of the Empire.


	4. To Aegir by way of Bergliez

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dark mage duo deliver some bad news to Prime Minister von Aegir.
> 
> Lysithea attends a real Bergliez party, and Hubert hits peak dad-mode.

**Day 4**

This dream involved people he knew being other people. Hubert was the protagonist of _Curse of the Vampire_, Rupert Underhill. Bernadetta was his sweet human fiancee and fucking Ferdinand von Aegir was the vampire killing antagonist trying to steal Bernadetta away to “save” her from Hubert. Hubert/Rupert could help neither his love for Bernadetta nor his insatiable blood lust as he sucked the poor girl dry via her tantalizing subclavian. Ferdinand burst into the Varley’s foyer, where apparently this dream was now happening, and staked Hubert from behind. Bernadetta’s warm blood sprayed out from Hubert’s wound as he exploded into dust. A wonderful way to wake up.

Hubert found the book on his face, apparently he had fallen asleep while reading. He wasn’t sure how to feel about the story. Rupert was having a tough go of things at this point in the plot; he had grown up a vampire, but did not know why he had been made into one or who had done it to him. Everyone was persecuting the poor guy just trying to lead his normal life with his quiet fiancee and his night shift bureaucratic job. Essentially, Rupert was stuck paying a debt to hell, via his vampire curse, and he’d never even made the deal in the first place. Thanks to Lysithea, Hubert already knew that it was Rupert’s father all along that had traded his son for something to be revealed near the end. However, it was another aspect of the book that had him bothered, but it was hardly unique to this work: all the heroes were incredibly good looking, and all the villains were terribly ugly.

Hubert knew he only held this strong opinion because he himself was not easy on the eyes. He just couldn’t stand that almost every work of fiction out there perpetuated this idea that looks reflected character. Surely there were nice people with beady eyes, kind people with bad mustaches, or heroes with crooked teeth. Hubert knew he didn’t have to look hard to find examples of good looking people who were bad. His number one enemy in that department was Sylvain. He couldn’t keep track of all the awful things he’d overheard Sylvain saying to women. The entitled Gautier heir levied simply horrible accusations at women whose only crime was finding him attractive, and people seemed content to give him a free pass because he was handsome and had a crest. He regularly messed up with Dorothea who was still hooking up with him despite his pathetic personality. Fuck that noise.

While this was an unfortunate reality, sometimes looking scary had its benefits. Hubert had no crest, but he did have a fantastic resting bitch face and an unsettling laugh. This was why when Edelgard was having trouble with someone, Hubert was the natural choice to turn to. Simply leaving him in a room with people was often enough to get them to comply with what the imperial heir wanted done. There were of course people who Hubert couldn’t intimidate with looks alone, and for them, Hubert had a penchant for drama. Yesterday with von Varley had been a show, but today with von Aegir was serious politics. Hubert hoped he was ready.

Hubert got the garment bag that had arrived ahead of him and looked at the imperial uniform within it. He took a deep breath as he regarded the gray and black uniform with great reverence. When Hubert was a young boy he had always envisioned himself just standing behind Edelgard and giving her advice, but as he grew up he wanted to be both her shield and her sword. The distinctive military uniform was a huge step in that direction, and Hubert donned it with the utmost pride.

“Shit Hubie,” whispered Lysithea in her little valet outfit as she looked at him. “Where’s mine?”

“You want to become a officer in the imperial army?” He smirked as he adjusted his shoulder armor.

“If I get to dress like this, maybe,” shrugged Lysithea as she helped flutter his cape. It was the color of blood with all its oxygen drained out, _perfect_. “Does it come in a size extra small?”

“For you, we could arrange it,” promised Hubert. He’d be delighted to have Lysithea and her dangerous brand of unhinged magic on the Empire’s side more permanently. “Today, we’re not terrorizing Aegir like we did Varley. There’s power in silence and numbers in this situation.”

“So I don’t get to beat him up?” clarified Lysithea.

“Not today,” sighed Hubert. “But if you stick around with the empire, you can be my chief puncher.”

Lysithea beamed, “You would choose me for that role over Caspar?”

“Well I know that I could give you written instructions, and that you’d be able to read them,” grinned Hubert wickedly. He might have been seeding the rumor that Caspar couldn’t read for a while now after an inside joke between him and Randolph got a little out of hand.

“Caspar can read,” said Lysithea with a distinct tone of uncertainty.

“He can be your deputy puncher, you can boss him around,” said Hubert. Actually, Lysithea was rather good at bossing. She had the right attitude for it, and Hubert would love to weaponize that aspect of her too in order to wrangle more structure into the chaos that was the Black Eagles’ brightest students.

The soldiers gathered just outside the view of the von Aegir estate. They knew von Aegir had approximately thirty guards on the property, so Hubert had arranged for fifty of the Bergliez’s finest to carry out this order. Several hundred soldiers were already dispersed in the territory, ready to put down any acts of sedition on behalf of the soon to be former prime minister.

“Do your best not to kill anyone,” ordered Hubert sharply to the gathered operatives.

“Nice pep talk dad,” muttered Lysithea under her breath.

Randolph belted out a laugh, “I like her. You should keep her.”

“Your input is noted,” sighed Hubert. “Let’s get this over with.”

The first gate guard that aimed to stop them was swiftly put into a slumber by a little spell Hubert had been inspired to use by Mercedes von Martritz. Hubert saw no merit in killing them. They were loyal to Aegir for now, but Hubert felt that if showed mercy they’d happily join the imperial army instead when their lord was deposed.

The estate was massive but Hubert had sneakily gotten the layout plans by asking Ferdinand a series of questions that the dopey noble had happily answered. Hubert knew how many people worked here, where the weapons were kept, and a whole mess of other tidbits about the von Aegir mansion. The Bergliez soldiers poured in, bloodlessly subduing the von Aegir’s guards and finding the lord and his family and rousing them from sleep.

The family was gathered in their sleep clothes into the drawing room of their home. Hubert had chosen this room because of the sheer number of soldiers that could squeeze into here.

“What is this, I’ll have you know I am Prime Minister von Aegir,” he snapped. For a man only in his nightgown he still conducted himself with an air of importance.

“Actually, you are simply Aegir,” said Hubert curtly as he pulled out the missive. It had been signed by the Duke of Gerth, Count Bergliz, Count Herving, Lord Arundel, and after much coercion, Count Varley. The largest signature was Edelgard’s,_ Emperor Edelgard_. Hubert had also signed, in much smaller letters, as a symbolic gesture to bring the number to seven.

The Prime Minister read it over, focusing on the signatures, “What is this? Ionius is still emperor, not his daughter.”

“Emperor Edelgard’s coronation will be done within the month. Ionius has relinquished his title to her, and she has the backing of the other lords,” Hubert explained calmly.

“Why was I not immediately informed of this?” shouted Aegir.

“Because you are no longer relevant,” said Hubert. He paused and looked at Randolph, “General Bergliez, would you please escort Lady Aegir and her children to the library?”

Randolph nodded and began to direct the Prime Minister’s family away. Hubert had no desire to conduct this business in front of the Aegir children. They were scared and had been pulled from their beds by imperial soldiers. Hubert felt they had witnessed enough without watching General Ghoul, as he would surely be burned into their minds as, decimating their father’s dignity.

“This is preposterous! You have no power here,” said the Prime Minister as he attempted to prevent his family from leaving.

“No power?” Hubert looked around the room filled with soldiers, “I have the power of the Emperor behind me.”

von Aegir spat on him. Hubert had been spit upon before, and he would likely be spit on again many more times before this war was through. However, the former Prime Minister wasn’t just spitting on him, he was spitting on Hubert’s uniform and what it represented. Lysithea had taken a step forward, and Hubert raised his hand up just ever so slightly in warning for her to hold.

Hubert cleared his throat and straightened his posture so that he towered over Aegir, “Consider your lands seized. You and your family will be escorted to your mansion in Enbarr where you will be kept under house arrest awaiting trial.”

“Trial for what?” Aegir was incensed.

“Conspiracy and treason. You stand accused of manipulating the rebellion of House Hyrm and then using Empire forces to put it down to seize their land for yourself,” said Hubert.

“You have no proof of such things, I should sue you for slander instead,” threatened Aegir.

Hubert smiled, “Wonderful, then I am sure you shall have a very strong defense. However, until then, you will be stripped of your title as you await trail by a jury of your peers.”

“The title of Prime Minister belonged to my father, his father before him, and so on for hundreds of years. It shall remain mine, and be passed to my eldest son as tradition dictates!”

Hubert nodded, “I know your son Ferdinand very well, and I have no doubt that he has the political acumen to get himself elected Prime Minister someday —”

Aegir went red with rage, “Elected!”

“Your son tells me the duty of a noble is protect the people, but ought the people not choose their protector?”

Aegir was about to respond when Hubert looked again at Randolph, “Get his children out of here _now_.”

This time Aegir could not stop the soldiers from clearing his family from the room. When Hubert finally had Aegir’s forced attention, he continued, “I do not think you understand the severity of your situation. You are accused treason, and when you are found guilty, the punishment is execution. We know you were of working with agents outside of the state to encourage political strife within our Empire for your own personal gain. You invited them, the _Agarthans_, into our borders to kill empire citizens.”

Aegir had become very quiet at the mention of the word Agarthan. Hubert’s lips formed a thin line, “Yes Aegir, I now know what they call themselves. It came at great cost to get that information. In comparison, finding evidence of your crimes was easy.”

Hubert gestured to Lysithea, silent and angry looking at his side, “I doubt you recognize this person, but this is Lysithea von Ordelia, the surviving heir of the Ordelias.” Hubert let that sink in for a few moments, “You encouraged the emperor to to show off the Empire’s power by using your friends, and then you sought to punish him for it. You destroyed Hyrm, you destroyed Ordelia, just as much as Ionius, and then you walked away thinking your hands looked clean. Well, Aegir, when I am done with you I will have removed your gloves to show the world the shit beneath your nails, and then maybe I will keep removing things to uncover all your evil secrets. However, your eventual execution, well that is a pleasure I will happily cede to von Ordelia here, so that she may have some small hint of revenge for what you did to her and her family.” Lysithea regarded Aegir with an expression that read “_It will not be painless_.”

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Aegir’s pompous air of nobility had cleared to leave just a man and his miserable pile of secrets.

“I am Hubert von Vestra, right hand to Emperor Edelgard von Hresvelg,” he said, trying not to let his voice betray just how exhilarating it was to get to say that finally. “And I have been sent here by her imperial Majesty to tell you that you will be nothing but a bad memory in the new Adrestian Empire.”

***

The night out to welcome Hubert and Lysithea had been tame in comparison to how the Bergliez soldiers celebrated the successful take over of the Aegir’s territory. Hubert had given Lysithea a single rule, under no circumstances should she try to out drink any member of the Bergliez family. That was sure to lead to certain death. Otherwise he didn’t seem to care what she did; she wondered if he had finally given up on trying to police her or whether he was finally taking a vacation from trying to parent everyone.

At some point, Randolph convinced Hubert he needed to de-stress and gave him a very forceful massage that Hubert did not consent to. Lysithea got concerned as the sounds Hubert made into the cushions of the couch became increasingly pained until there was a terrible cracking noise and then Hubert was silent and limp.

“Did you kill him?” Lysithea asked in alarm.

“It’s the Bergliez back crack!” pronounced Randolph as he pulled Hubert up. Afterward Hubert did actually look a lot looser and happier, the massage having been just the thing he needed.

He wasn’t drinking very much but he hardly stopped Lysithea. “Just pace yourself please,” he warned her. Unfortunately, Lysithea realized a little too late she was treating the night like a sprint and not a marathon.

Lysithea vaguely recalled a jousting competition where she was pretty sure she was jousting Fleche while Hubert and Randolph served as their respective horses. In the kitchen after, they stood around talking about preferred weapons.

“Do the thing,” begged Randolph as he punched Hubert in the shoulder.

“No,” said Hubert.

“Please,” asked Fleche sweetly.

“No!”

“What is the thing?” Lysithea slurred.

“It’s so cool,” whined Randolph. “Please show her you have to!”

Hubert sighed with disgust and put down his drink. He allowed Fleche to put a blindfold over his eyes while Randolph cleared people away from a wall.

Lysithea watched as Hubert slid several knives out of various hiding places. Randolph spun Hubert around a few times and then pointed Hubert toward the wall they had cleared of people. Hubert rapidly threw the knives, which embedded themselves into the wall of the von Aegir’s dining room.

“What’s the big deal?” demanded Lysithea. Fleche grabbed her hand and pulled her to look at how the knives had landed, creating a nearly perfect HV for his initials. Lysithea gasped as she looked at Hubert as he took off the blindfold and resumed drinking.

“Now do it left handed!” suggested Randolph, which Hubert resoundingly shut down.

Eventually, despite her best efforts to keep up with the wild Bergliez crew, Lysithea found herself throwing up.

“Okay, you’re done,” said Hubert gently as he picked her up and carried her to where she would be sleeping.

“No,” protested Lysithea as she rested her chin on his shoulder. He smelled like coffee and sulfur, and weirdly that combination had grown comforting to her.

He held her hair back as she continued to empty her guts into the chamber pot of Ferdinand’s bedroom. It was a rather smart little porcelain number with horses on it, totally Ferdinand. She looked around the room, and the sheer number of equine motifs made her want to vomit more.

Hubert made her brush her teeth and helped her wiggle into her flannel nightgown, “No peeking,” she whispered sleepily.

“Trust me I don’t want to,” said Hubert as he averted his eyes. He wouldn’t let her go to sleep until she drank a tall glass of water, and then he tucked her into Ferdinand’s big four poster bed. He took the chamber pot out of the room, and when he returned it was cleaned.

“Hubie,” she whispered pathetically.

“What,” he didn’t sound annoyed, just tired.

“I’m not sorry I crashed your road trip,” she said defiantly as she tried to bury herself in the many pillows of Ferdinand’s fancy bed.

Hubert laughed, “I’m not sorry either.” He paused in the door, “Are you going to be okay?”

Lysithea felt terrible, but throwing up had actually helped a great deal. “Can I, can I sleep with Peggles?”

Hubert regarded her and then sighed, “If you throw up on Peggles I will actually kill you.”

She believed him. “I promise I won’t,” she pleaded.

He relented and came back with the very old stuffed animal. “Sleep tight, see you in the morning.”

“Where are you going?”

“I need to go lecture Randolph about giving you all those shots, that was very irresponsible of him,” said Hubert with a smirk. He made to leave.

“Hubert,” she said weakly.

He popped his head back in, “What now?”

“Do I have to go back to Garreg Mach?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to go back to school anymore, real life was proving much more interesting.

Hubert regarded her silently for a few beats, “Let’s discuss that when you’re sober.”

***

Hubert felt badly that Lysithea had managed to drink so much when he wasn’t paying attention, but sometimes certain lessons and limits had to be learned through experience. Besides, getting utterly wrecked at a Bergliez party was a rite of passage for any serious imperial operative. He wondered if that was the direction Lysithea was heading; it sure seemed like she was walking that path with him, at least for the week.

He found Fleche falling asleep in a corner and helped find her a proper place to sleep. He retrieved his knives from the von Aegir’s wall shaking his head at the destructive stupidity of his one party trick. He returned stray glasses to the kitchen and made sure any open windows got shut and unattended candles were blown out. The place was a bit messy, but by Bergliez standards this had been fairly reserved.

The party was definitely dying down which was for the best. Randolph groggily swatted at him as Hubert tried to help him up to find a bed, “I can’t believe all the light weights are done already!”

Hubert rubbed the spot where surely a bruise would be later, “von Ordelia’s from the Alliance, what can I say?” Hubert suspected it was less about Lysithea’s geographic origin and more about her child sized body that explained her lack of tolerance, but Randolph laughed at the joke.

“So are you going to miss school?” Randolph hadn’t gone to Garreg Mach but Hubert knew that he was super happy that Caspar had gotten to go.

“Maybe parts of it,” admitted Hubert. He liked meeting new people and he loved learning things, but certain aspects of the social structure at Garreg Mach had been unrelenting on him, “But largely, no.”

“I still can’t believe Caspar got in,” laughed Randolph with a yawn.

“He’s doing okay,” promised Hubert as he located an empty room. “He can even write his own name now!” Randolph burst out laughing; goodness it was nice to have someone who appreciated his sense of humor.

After putting Randolph down, Hubert cursed as he realized he was one of the last people still up and there were no beds left. Even the couches and love seats were full up. Hubert grumbled to himself as he snuck back to Ferdinand’s bedroom and stole a pillow from Lysithea. He looked at the bed, it was ridiculously huge. Hubert decided he wouldn’t bother Lysithea if he just clung onto the opposite side of the bed. She was practically in another territory the bed was so massive.

That night Hubert dreamed that he married Byleth and together they adopted every Black Eagle, who were all very small children. He read Petra bed time stories to familiarize her with the Fodlan language, and checked for monsters in Bernadetta’s closet. He baked cinnamon rolls with Lysithea and told little Ferdinand he could not possibly pick a favorite, even though it was clearly Edelgard. He consoled Felix and told him someday he’d get taller. Hubert scared would-be boyfriends come to call on young Dorothea, and worried over Linhardt’s narcolepsy diagnosis. He taught Caspar how to finally read. Hubert hung up ugly crayon drawings of their weird impossible family in an office that looked suspiciously like Seteth’s. He beamed with pride as his smart gaggle of daughters laid waste to the tree fort his dumbass boys had adorned with a “NO GIRLS ALLOWED” sign.

Hubert wondered if he ought not see a doctor about his brain and all the weird dreams he’d been having recently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey...where are Dorothea and Felix? Are they having a good time?


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea is doing her best, and we get an explanation for Lorenz's pre-time skip hair.

Traveling with Felix was a lame ass time, Dorothea decided. They were obviously about to be mugged and all Felix was doing was crossing his arms and frowning. Dorothea grimaced as she realized she had to handle this situation.

“This is a stick up,” said the would-be robber as he pulled his knife.

Dorothea looked at the two highwaymen with an unimpressed glance. “The only stick up is going to be the one I shove up your ass if you don’t get out of our way. Go shake down some nobles, we don’t have shit.”

The one man regarded her hungrily, “Who says we’re only interested in coin? Maybe we’re interested in you.”

Dorothea felt her body clenching at the suggestion but she forced her face into a sneer, “The only thing going inside someone is our swords through your guts so get the fuck out of here.” This was intended to be Felix’s cue to draw his blade, but the dense loser still had his arms tightly folded together. Dorothea sighed, as usual, she was the one pulling all the weight in a relationship. Dorothea unsheathed her sword with her right hand and produced a small threatening fireball in her left, “Just try me.”

The thief sheathed his dagger at the sight of the fireball, “Goddess damned mages.” He turned towards his partner, “Come on, I don’t need to learn this lesson twice.”

Dorothea kicked at them as they walked past, “Yeah that’s right, you don’t even wanna see what spells this other guy can do.”

Dorothea and Felix continued walking and when she was sure the would-be thieves were far enough away, she laid into Felix, “Do you think you could back me up the next time we almost get robbed?”

“You seemed to be handling it just fine,” grumbled Felix. “I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.”

Dorothea rolled her eyes; for all his fight, Felix was proving a reluctant warrior out here on the road. He couldn’t improvise at all and was a terrible travel companion. She suspected Lysithea was faring better with Hubert. If the two robbers had come on those two psycho dark mages there would just be a pile of flesh and bones remaining instead of a little verbal sparring. This was the last time she let Lysithea convince her to take Felix anywhere.

When Dorothea had heard Hubert was going to Enbarr for a “vacation” she was intensely jealous. Hubert on vacation was a ridiculous notion, and Dorothea knew he’d be working the whole time, but she wanted a visit home. Dorothea loved Garreg Mach but damn if she didn’t miss the smelly streets of Enbarr sometimes. So when Lysithea suggested they crash the trip, Dorothea was down. She wanted to share her favorite parts of Enbarr with Lysithea and Hubert, and she supposed she could tolerate Felix coming along.

While she completely agreed that if they all showed up at once Hubert would freak out, Dorothea was of the opinion that Lysithea and Felix should be the ones together and Dorothea should be going with Hubert. Or better yet, Lysithea and Dorothea should have just done a girls trip and left Felix out of the equation entirely. Alas, Dorothea was the only one with any experience hitchhiking between Garreg Mach and Enbarr and Lysithea was the only one who could warp to intercept Hubert. So Dorothea was stuck taking Felix, and Lysithea was going to barnacle herself onto Hubert. Lame.

Hustling with Felix was hard. Dorothea barely had any money, and was used to flirting with dudes for a meal or a drink as needed, but Felix was cramping her style. He did have money though, and he’d been paying (albeit not without grumbling) for everything. Dorothea was trying to remind him that she was essentially acting as his travel guide to get him to his girlfriend for a weekend in the capital of the Empire and this was a roughly fair exchange. Honestly, he was the one getting the great deal here.

Dorothea had compiled a list of tea houses and sweet shops for him to take Lysithea out on a proper date. She had mapped out all the parks she wished guys would take her for a walk in and given it to Felix so that he could stumble his way through courting his girlfriend. Dorothea wondered how such an inept guy had convinced Lysithea to date him. Felix was handsome, but he was also angry and grumpy. Dorothea had an easier time picturing Hubert being a boyfriend than Felix because at least for all his many faults, Hubert was funny. Felix was just, Felix.

However, it wasn’t Dorothea’s life and she wasn’t going to lecture Lysithea about who to date. As if Dorothea hadn’t made her own share of bad dating choices at that age. She was probably still making them if she was being real with herself. Currently, Dorothea was hooking up regularly with Sylvain and sadly dating no one.

She had come to Garreg Mach determined to make her life better. She was a realist and knew that a rich husband was the most direct and straightforward path towards long term security. Dorothea hadn’t had much success in Enbarr. Men there saw her, the commoner with a voice of an angel, as an attractive mistress option, but not really wife material. However, studying up for the entry exams to the officer’s academy had rearranged Dorothea’s personal objectives. She liked magic, and she liked her sword, she loved using them together to kick ass. Now instead of just finding a rich husband, she wanted to have a career too. She needed allies in high places, and Dorothea was great at making friends. Endearing herself to Edie was as much a strategic move as it was a desire to get to know the mysterious and attractive princess, but to get close to Edelgard one had to go through Hubert.

Dorothea had learned quickly that Hubert was not going to be swayed by her ample, um, charms. As soon as Dorothea had expressed an interest in Edie, Hubert had taken an intense interest in Dorothea, but not the kind she was used to from men. Where did she grow up, who were parents, had she ever been arrested (Enbarr, none of your business, and yes, but it was a misunderstanding!)? He made it pretty clear to Dorothea that he was there to protect Edelgard from any unsavory parties, and the implication was that he found Dorothea unsavory. Dorothea had been pissed! If anyone was unsavory in their house it was him with his creepy visage and bad attitude. This had made her only more determined to become friends with Edie, if only to annoy Hubert. Unfortunately, during the first couple weeks at Garreg Mach, Dorothea was stuck around Hubert way more than Edie.

The officer’s academy orientation had taken place at the beginning of Great Tree Moon and had been a chance for everyone to get to know each other through a week of hellish team building activities. She remembered when Manuela had them arrange themselves by age and then they had been broken up into little groups to get to know each other. Dorothea and Hubert were the oldest Black Eagles and they had been forced to group up with the other two oldest members of each house: Sylvain and Mercedes, and Leonie and Lorenz. Each of them had to share what had motivated them apply to Garreg Mach, where they were from, and a fun fact. Sylvain’s fun fact was that he was single and ready to mingle (with a wink at Dorothea for good measure), Dorothea shared that she loved animals and figuring out what animal represented each person she met, Mercedes loved to tell scary ghost stories, Leonie considered herself a master of do-it-yourself ingenuity, and Lorenz went on about his love of tea and hatred of coffee for a solid five minutes. Hubert had looked at Lorenz with complete boredom and utter contempt and made his fun fact that he loved coffee and hated tea. That had been a pretty good summary of him in a nutshell: Hubert liked getting a rise out of people, and did not enjoy talking about himself.

Their next significant run in had been during their first joint training session with the Golden Deer house. Lorenz was loudly going on about how Linhardt was clearly taking a nap on the bleachers and that the Black Eagle House desperately needed a replacement professor. Edelgard and Ferdinand were both getting embarrassed as they started to engage him in an argument in defense of their classmates. Dorothea and Hubert had been practicing their black magic as they listened to Lorenz ranting about how ignoble their houses’ behavior was. Dorothea was already super annoyed with Lorenz his attitudes about commoners based on their few interactions, and this really put her over the edge.

“What an absolute asshole,” muttered Dorothea. “I wish we could just shut him up.”

“What’s stopping us?” asked Hubert as he glanced over at the annoying noble and his ridiculous purple hair.

They had hatched the plan and carried it out that evening leaving the dining hall. Dorothea had flagged Lorenz down and walked him to a shadowy corner while asking him about his favorite tea. Hubert was waiting in the darkness to catch Lorenz in a surprise headlock. Then Dorothea had whipped out her scissors and delivered a devastating asymmetrical bob upon Lorenz’s stupid head.

“Let’s see how you like being made fun of. You should be more careful the next time you pick on a Black Eagle,” said Dorothea triumphantly as Lorenz felt his new haircut with horror. With that, Dorothea and Hubert had low-fived their way right into a solid fortnight of detention with Seteth. Sometime during those detentions, Hubert had become Hubie and Dorothea never looked back.

Her interactions with Felix on the other hand had only gone from bad to worse. It had started with her merely trying to introduce herself and engage him in conversation. He had made it clear he had no time for her and zero interest in getting to know her. She was just trying to meet all the swords users in each house, and he had made her feel like trash about it. He expressed total contempt for her skills and wouldn’t even spar with her to help her improve. She had learned to use a sword in a freaking theater not trained by professionals from childhood, of course she wasn’t great at the start.

Then he’d insulted her in front of everyone, giving a loud voice to the vicious rumors that the only way she’d gotten into the officer's academy was by sleeping with some noble to nominate her and pay her way. That was the worst, and Dorothea died inside every time she overheard someone speculating about it. The message was clear, “_Why are you here?_” and it always seemed to be nobles saying it. She had put all her savings into paying this tuition, a massive gamble, and had studied for two years to take the entrance exams while she worked full time. She had busted her ass trying to get here, and she was treated like she hadn’t earned it.

The only two reasons she was doing this trip with Felix now was 1) she liked Lysithea and wanted her to be happy, and 2) Lysithea had traded her the dark staff to do this. That thing was the most dangerous object Dorothea had ever held, and totally worth this stupid journey with Felix. It extended her range by quite a bit so she didn’t have to get close to enemies on the battlefield and Dorothea would spend a year with Felix for exclusive rights to it.

“Are we there yet?” Felix asked that question at least twice an hour.

Dorothea sighed as she continued to march. She could really use a cart to hitch hike on right now, but it was winter, and pickings were slim. Dorothea threw her head back and wished that Linhardt’s family’s territory was less sleepy and more lively. She knew what would brighten things up, a song! And it would annoy the crap out of Felix. Dorothea started to hum.

“Not again,” moaned Felix. “You’ve done this one three times already!”

“Ohhhhhhh,” she belted out the opening of her favorite tavern tune. “There once was a cold girl from from Faerghus —”

“Please stop singing,” begged Felix. She finished the song anyway. 

She took out the notebook she’d found near the cathedral that clearly came from Alois, “Well let’s pick up where we left off in the joke book.” She thumbed through to where she’d dog eared the corner.

“You’re so annoying,” said Felix.

“No, you’re annoying,” teased Dorothea.

“Then why am I the one with a girlfriend?”

She frowned as she put the book away. It was a good jab, why didn’t she have a girlfriend? “Maybe I’ll steal her.”

Felix looked ever so slightly nervous at the idea.

“You’d better figure out how to keep her, because if I get so much as a whiff that she’s unhappy with you, oh Feefee, I’m coming for little Lysi,” promised Dorothea.

“Don’t call me Feefee,” protested Felix. It was too late, it was his official nickname. She’d already gotten Petra and Caspar in on it, poor little Felix was doomed.

“I’ve figured out what animal you are,” she teased.

“Don’t —”

“A cat, but not a cool one like a tiger, you’re more like a house cat,” explained Dorothea.

Felix grunted and readjusted his backpack, “Are we there yet?”


	6. To Hervring by Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang is reunited and almost in Enbarr! They smoke Solon's special Agarthan blend.

**Day 5**

Lysithea’s head was swimming and her mouth tasted terrible. She was in a room filled with horse imagery and she was spooning Hubert. What the hell had happened last night? Lysithea timidly poked him, but he was solidly passed out. She wondered what time it was, the sun was up, but Hubert never slept in so it had to still be pretty early. It was for the best that he stayed asleep though because she had left drool on his too bony shoulder.

She squinted at the sun and very much felt like someone needed to invent little tinted glasses to protect people from the most evil star. She shielded her poor eyes and tucked that thought away for later. If anyone could figure it out, it was her.

Lysithea stumbled down to the von Aegir’s kitchen and found some water that she drank greedily. Unfortunately it just made her more nauseous. Randolph laughed at her, “Oh baby, this was your first Bergliez party wasn’t it?”

Lysithea frowned, “No, I went to the party after the Battle of the Eagle and the Lion, that counts.”

Randolph continued to laugh, “You mean the party my step brother has to host for the Church? Yeah that wasn’t a Bergliez party, that’s a Bergliez funeral.”

Lysithea buried her face into her arms as she sat down at the von Aegir’s magnificent marble kitchen island. Lysithea felt a small sob in her throat, “Help me.”

“Bergliez don’t get hungover,” boasted Randolph. “But I’ll see what I can do.”

“Am I going to die from this?” she asked with a sniffle as she wished she had never had a drink ever.

Randolph hummed as he cracked some eggs, “It’s definitely possible. Rest in peace Robbie “don’t stop me” Bergliez.” He gave a brief moment of silence for the fallen extended relative. “We believe in the mantra of party hard, but train harder. Get fit, drink a lot of water, eat beforehand, and pace yourself that night. Never go too hard on back to back evenings.”

“Should I be writing this down?”

“Don’t worry, it’s on our coat of arms,” promised Randolph as he pushed a steamy plate of toast, greasy eggs, and charred bacon at her.

Hubert had appeared in the kitchen, come to grind his coffee beans, and stole a piece of bacon from Lysithea’s plate. She was too weak to fight him over it.

“What tea do you want?” he asked her as he rummaged through the cabinets, “I think they have every kind.”

Lysithea moaned as she stuffed the eggs into her mouth, this was going to one long day to meet up with Dorothea and Felix.

***

Hubert made sure to grab some tea from the von Aegir’s for Ferdinand. He knew it wouldn’t lessen the blow of learning that his father was being brought up on major corruption charges, but maybe a taste of home would help console him. Unfortunately Hubert couldn’t recognize one tea from another so he just took as much as he could find and hoped it was right. He knew the gesture was not nearly enough to sway Ferdinand into joining the Empire’s side in the war to come, but maybe, just maybe it would show him that he was welcome in their ranks because they could see the differences between son and father. He’d send it back to Garreg Mach with Edelgard; Ferdinand didn’t have to know it came from him because he probably wouldn’t accept any gifts from Hubert after what he’d just done to the von Aegirs.

As they rode Lysithea was looking incredibly hung over and Hubert didn’t want to taunt her too much. He recalled his own first Bergliez party experience at sixteen and he did not envy her at all right now. Besides, he had other matters on his mind. Hubert had really wanted to use this trip as a chance to deal with his intimacy issues, but that had not gone to plan.

“I need to stop,” said Lysithea abruptly, snapping him from his internal turmoil. She barely had time to hand him her reins and hop down before she was vomiting again.

He winced as he saw eggs and bacon on the ground. He drew in a quick breath, “Good news, I no longer view you as a baby.”

“Wha—” she looked up at him miserably.

“You are welcome to drink with me any time,” he continued.

“I never want to drink again!” She was practically crying she was so hung over.

“I know,” smirked Hubert. “Now I trust you not to go crazy if we ever go out.”

Lysithea wordlessly grumbled and moaned as she pulled herself back onto her horse, “Great, I’m not looking forward to it.”

They rode all day until arriving at their stop in the Hervring territory. The inn was rather empty as Hubert looked around. Of course it was, the imperial soldiers quietly massing near Garreg Mach were far past this point. It was winter, travelers were sparse. However, two familiar people were sitting by the fireplace. Dorothea’s face lit up, “Hubie! You got here, finally!”

Lysithea crawled her way to lay her head in Dorothea’s lap. Felix looked super mad, “What did you do to her?”

Hubert held up his hands, “She did it to herself.” Lysithea whimpered as Dorothea ran her fingers through the hungover girl’s hair.

Hubert should have known these two were going to show up at some point. He sighed and waited for the innkeeper so that he could find out how much a second room was going to cost.

“What is this a couples trip?” teased the acting innkeeper for the night, who couldn’t have been much older than them.

“Much more like a single dad and his idiot children,” said Hubert as he tried to figure out how he could afford this. “I’m working, they’re just playing hooky from school.”

“What do you do?”

“I work for the Empire, but if I tell you any more I’ll have to kill you,” said Hubert dryly as paid and accepted the keys.

He brought the room keys to the fearsome foursome. “Dorothea and Lysithea,” he passed Dorothea is the key, “And Felix and me.”

“Wait what?” started Felix.

“I am not putting you two together,” said Hubert definitively. “We may not be at school, but this is not a free for all. You’re not having sex —”

“I wasn’t trying to!” Protested Felix. “I just, I don’t want to room with you.”

“Tough shit,” said Dorothea as she smiled and stroked Lysithea’s hair.

Thankfully each room had two twin beds. Hubert sighed with relief as he envisioned the peaceful night.

***

Lysithea offered to buy their drinks. She suspected Hubert was almost out of money by the way he kept reorganizing his receipts. It was the least she could do. She sauntered up to the bar and tapped her little hand on the counter get the attention of its tender.

“Did you lose your parent?” teased the innkeeper/bartender as he dried a glass. He was young, probably early twenties, and had an annoying grin.

“I’m here with my, uh, brother,” said Lysithea as she hitched her thumb back over to Hubert where he was catching Dorothea and Felix up on the events of the trip. “Four drinks please.”

“What kind?”

“For the blue haired guy, milk,” said Lysithea. Felix didn’t generally drink alcohol, and she was hoping he would get taller. “And for the flirty floozy, one fancy looking cocktail.” Lysithea pursed her lips in hesitation for herself. “What would you recommend to someone who’s still hungover from their first bender, but wants to look like they’ve got their shit under control?”

The bartender smirked and folded his arms. “What does your brother drink?”

Lysithea looked back at Hubert, “He likes whiskey, but he’ll take whatever’s strong I think. He’s stressed out.” The bartender nodded and got out two tumblers. In one he dumped in two fingers worth of whiskey the other he topped off with a generous amount of apple juice. They looked pretty similar to the unobservant eye and Lysithea thanked the bartender for his discretion.

As Lysithea got back to the table and squeezed into the love seat next to Felix. He smiled at her as she handed him the glass of milk and her heart melted a little bit. He had a really nice smile but it was super rare to ever see it. She felt like she had learned some high level spell in figuring out how to get him to do it.

Dorothea was in a very squishy looking arm chair and ranting at Hubert, “You beat up Bernadetta’s dad and you didn’t let me help?”

“You’re supposed to be in classes right now,” grumbled Hubert. He was sitting in a particularly grand arm chair that reminded Lysithea of the decor described in _Curse of the Vampire_.

“So are you,” challenged Felix.

“I wasn’t joking when I said I dropped out,” said Hubert. “I’m not going back with you three to school.” He drank his whiskey and mouthed _“Thank you”_ to Lysithea.

Dorothea looked blindsided by the admission as she looked into the drink that Lysithea had brought her, “You’re not coming back at all?”

“I have to work,” said Hubert.

“Who will sit in detention with me? Who will edit the school news paper?” demanded Dorothea.

“You can be editor, and I’m sure Sylvain will be in detention with you,” said Hubert.

Dorothea frowned, “Who will protect Edie?”

“Lady Edelgard can protect herself,” snapped Hubert. His voice softened as if he had realized how harsh he sounded, “And if she can’t, I know you’ll be there with her so it’ll be okay.”

Dorothea looked miserable as she sipped her drink.

“How was your trip?” Lysithea asked Felix to redirect the mood of the conversation.

“It was fine, uneventful,” said Felix.

Dorothea rolled her eyes, “Yeah like that time we almost got mugged and I took care of it. Super uneventful.”

“They wouldn’t have gotten that far,” grumbled Felix.

“They didn’t threaten to rape you,” hissed Dorothea under her breath.

Hubert looked very alarmed, “I’m sorry, what happened?”

“They were just trying to talk themselves up,” said Felix. “It was two guys with one knife between them. I wasn’t going to, you know, kill them for saying they might rob us.”

“Yeah you did nothing at all,” said Dorothea angrily.

“And no one got hurt,” said Felix growing defensive.

Lysithea could see Hubert making a very angry expression at Felix. So much for changing the mood, “Well on the way back I’ll be there and don’t worry, they won’t be messing with us.”

“Let’s focus on where we’re going in Enbarr,” suggested Dorothea, still shooting dark looks at Felix.

***

Felix was super grateful to get away from Dorothea finally but he wasn’t super enthused about sharing a room with Hubert.

“This was supposed to be two twins,” grumbled Hubert as they looked at the king sized bed.

“Whatever,” sighed Felix. He didn’t move around much in his sleep, and he was ready to punch Hubert if he rolled too close.

“So you’re going to take Lysithea on an actual date in Enbarr?” Hubert was pulling off his boots and massaging his gross feet.

Felix averted his eyes and started to unpack. “Yeah, we get in late tomorrow and I already booked a place to stay.” He had zero intentions of sleeping with Lysithea on this trip, they had only just started making out, but he liked making Hubert look horrified by the idea. “And then we’re going to tea and some shops.”

“Sounds right up your alley,” said Hubert sarcastically as he sat back on the bed and relaxed.

“It’s more about making her happy,” protested Felix. He would go to every single sweet shop in Enbarr if it meant Lysithea was having a good time.

“Huh, maybe you’re not as dumb as you look,” smirked Hubert as he pulled out a book to read.

Felix rolled his eyes and got out all the stuff that he and Lysithea had nicked from Solon’s office. “Here, I figured you’d want to look at this stuff for your research.” He passed Hubert the diary. He had already read it; nothing had been specifically about Duscar, but it seemed like Solon had been involved many things going on outside Garreg Mach.

“Thanks,” said Hubert as he paged through it.

Felix held up the strange leaves, “Also, do you know what this is?” He tossed it to Hubert.

“I think this is,” Hubert paused and opened the vial. “I think this is Solon’s weed.”

“I figured, Lysithea thought it was tea,” said Felix with a small laugh.

“She’s very smart, and very sheltered,” said Hubert as he passed it back to Felix.

“Do you want to smoke it? For research?”

Hubert looked at him for a few beats and Felix was sure he was going to lecture him about no doing weird drugs you discovered in a librarian’s office but the mage shrugged and nodded, “Hopefully we don’t die.”

Hubert got up and cracked the window as Felix rolled a joint. He remembered Glenn smoking with Sylvain, and while he had never tried it, they seemed to really enjoy it. “Have you smoked before?”

Hubert nodded, “Just once, at a Bergliez party.” He used a very small spell to light it and the two passed it back and forth before setting it on an ashtray by the window. He made his way back to the bed and picked his book back up.

Felix waited to see if he felt any different. He looked at his hands but they seemed normal enough to him. However he did almost fall out of his chair as Dorothea barged into the room. “Lysithea's already asleep. You partied that poor girl out, hey, what are you doing?” Her eyes had narrowed in on the joint as she went over and helped herself.

“That’s Solon’s weed,” said Hubert slowly. His voice sounded much more drawn out and deeper than usual.

“Oh,” said Dorothea as she looked like she was having second thoughts about the joint now that she’d already smoked it.

Felix walked around the room, everything seemed strangely more colorful. He looked back at Dorothea and Hubert and felt noticeably less annoyed with them than usual.

“My brother used to smoke with Sylvain all the time,” said Felix as he joined them on the giant bed. It was so soft. “I never really got it, but I think now I do.”

“This is very relaxing,” said Hubert as he settled into the pillows. “I’m glad I’m not having weird hallucinations about Agarthans, that’s what I thought was going to happen.”

“And yet you still smoked it,” said Dorothea as she slowly brushed her fingers through her hair and laid down next to him.

“Yes, yes I did,” said Hubert as he started to laugh to himself.

“Why aren’t you coming back to school?” Felix still couldn’t believe Hubert had dropped out while Edelgard was still a student. That made no sense.

“Edelgard is becoming Emperor, I have to do shit in Enbarr,” said Hubert. “Lots of Empire business.”

“Edie is going to be emperor?” Dorothea rolled over onto her stomach excitedly, “Can we come to her coronation?”

“You’re going to get expelled if you don’t go back,” yawned Hubert as he poked her.

Felix massaged his temples and stared at the ceiling. “We passed a lot of soldiers on our way here.”

“Oh my goddess yes we did,” agreed Dorothea. “They weren’t in uniform but those dudes were professionals.”

Felix looked at Hubert, “So Mr. Empire business, what was that all about?”

“Did you get me high to interrogate me?” asked Hubert suspiciously.

The answer was yes but unfortunately now Felix was too high to remember all his questions. He just started laughing instead. He hoped he remembered this was a fun, but useless interrogation tool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lysithea, girl, you need one gatorade and a sausage egg mcmuffin, stat.
> 
> Felix is trying to be a good spy, he just doesn't know what he's doing!


	7. An Evening in Enbarr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fodlan Karaoke is making up Limericks
> 
> Also if you haven't noticed, this takes place in an AU with conveniences like hotels and toothbrushes. Maybe they'll even have electricity after the war.

**Day 6**

This was not a dream, this was _the_ nightmare, the one he’d been having since 1167. It always began like a typical afternoon standing at the back wall in the imperial family dining room with the other vassals as the Hresvelg children finished eating their lunches. When asked what she wanted to do now that lessons were over for the day, Edelgard announced she was bored with playing dolls. Hubert would not argue, for he was massively bored of them too. She wanted to explore today, and Hubert was happy to facilitate that. He had just learned of a new thing in the palace. They were called dumbwaiters, and they could send things up and down between floors.

Hubert had Edelgard wait at one on the first floor and raced down to the basement. He sent her up her doll, she was delighted by the trick. She asked if they could travel in the dumbwaiter. Hubert hesitated, he had been told this was not a toy when taught how it was used. However, they were small, and they would surely fit inside. Hubert bit his lip, he would go first, it was his duty to protect her and figure out what was safe and what wasn’t. Hubert fit himself into the dumbwaiter while Edelgard held tight on the ropes. So far so good, Hubert shut the door. The box suddenly felt a lot smaller and darker. The sound of his breathing seemed louder than usual in this cramped space. This was very uncomfortable and he could hear Edelgard saying she was sure if she could actually hold the ropes. It was fine, he would tell her this was not going to work. He’d distract her with something new and they would never play with the dumbwaiter again.

Then Edelgard accidentally lost her grip because she wasn’t strong enough to hold on.

This was the part of the nightmare that was always most drawn out and terrible even though in reality it hadn’t lasted that long. This was the feeling of free fall in the darkness of the cramped box. It went past the basement, and stopped in the dark recesses just below the lowest floor. The box cracked open on impact and Hubert landed in a mess of splinters and pain. This was usually when he woke up, but this wasn’t where things ended.

Hubert had no idea how long he laid down there as he tried to pull himself free of the wreckage. He knew if he cried for help he was going to get into a ton of trouble so he tried his best to fix the situation on his own. It probably wasn’t very long that he was stuck down there, but it had felt like an eternity. He had wet himself on impact he was so frightened, and he knew that enough time passed in the drafty crawlspace for the sad wet patch to become icy cold against him. Eventually, someone had noticed Edelgard opening the door the dumbwaiter and frantically calling down for Hubert to see if he was alright and realized what had happened. Another servant had opened the dumbwaiter door at the basement and heard Hubert’s quiet sobs as he limped in the dark trying to find a way out. They did their best to try to figure out how to get down there to get him, but eventually the Marquis had to be summoned to fix the situation.

The Marquis knew the ins and outs of the palace better than any other servant. Accessing the level beneath the basement was difficult, but not impossible. The Marquis got in with another servant who carried a torch, and inspected the damage to his son.

Hubert’s little hands were smashed up from where he had put them up to protect himself. His clothes were torn and he had wood splinters up and down his skinny limbs. His big strong father had picked him up and carried him wordlessly back to the safety of the light and away from the wreckage of his bad judgment. He was dusty and bloody and his father ordered a hot bath to be drawn. Hubert was undressed down his underclothes and then the Marquis set to checking Hubert’s injuries.

He’d give a poke and ask some variation of “Can you feel this?” or “Does this hurt?” as he touched the scrapes and flexed the joints of Hubert’s limbs. When the Marquis was satisfied that Hubert wasn’t paralyzed, or bleeding inside, and no major bones were broken he ordered Hubert into the tub.

It was the only time Hubert ever remembered his father bathing him. When he had a governess she had seen to all of Hubert’s needs, and after she was let go, Hubert had begun to bathe himself. However, that day the Marquis had scrubbed away the dirt and the blood and then fetched the tweezers to pluck out all the painful little splinters. The hands were the worst, and the Marquis was about as bad at healing spells as Hubert was now. Yet his father had performed them and straightened out the little fingers, covered all the many scrapes in ointment and then wrapped the tiny battered hands in gauze.

All of this had been done in near silence while Hubert dreaded the inevitable question of “What the hell were you thinking?”. It never came. The Marquis finished attending Hubert’s wounds and then had dinner brought down so they could eat. He instructed Hubert to wear his gloves at all times in the presence of the imperial family until the hands were healed.

“I’m sorry,” managed Hubert when he could finally speak again.

“I know,” said the Marquis. His father paused and closed his eyes for a few moments. “I hope you understand now that the dumbwaiter is not a toy.”

“Yes,” croaked Hubert.

“Princess Edelgard told me she wished to go in the dumbwaiter, but that you would not allow her until you had determined if it was safe,” said the Marquis as he stared at his son. Hubert could only nod. The Marquis sighed, “Good. At least I know you are listening to some of the important things I tell you.”

These were the kinds of memories that made Hubert struggle with what to do about his father. It would be easy if the Marquis was uniformly cruel and uncaring. He was not loving, and he was the type to only critique and never console. However, he did his duty and made sure Hubert was cared for even though by his own admission he would have saved Hubert’s mother over Hubert if he had been given the choice. The Marquis was always honest, although brutally so. He was a strict man with a strict sense of fairness and judgment. Hubert admired the Marquis almost as much as he hated him. 

He trained Hubert in the true ways of the Vestras. When Hubert was a child, these lessons were all the basics of how to serve. When Hubert turned ten, things shifted to the darker aspects of the Vestras’ duty to the empire. Conducting rituals, choosing consorts, shielding the liege from threats, and then eliminating those threats entirely. Their family served the Emperor, but what was the leader without the Empire? When Ionius’ actions threatened Adrestia, Hubert’s father had a made a critical and difficult decision to remove the threat. Unfortunately he removed Ionius’ power, and not the Agarthans. Then his extreme administration of justice had led the Marquis to give Ionius’ children to those things. He made the same mistake as Ionius and saw the Agarthans as a weapon to be used. He saw their technology not as something to be feared, but as an opportunity to make the Empire stronger. Hubert had learned his painful lesson about playing with dangerous things. The Agarthans were not a toy.

Hubert lay awake in the darkness and realized his eyes were wet from the dream. He touched the skin above his dark seal lightly. That thing always burned when he had nightmares, as if it were taunting him. He knew his father had ordered the dark seal put in Hubert to make him stronger, not to hurt him, but it still stung. He would never be good enough as he was.

***

“Welcome to Enbarr,” smiled Dorothea as she extended her arms to show them the slummy bit of town she was from. Felix and Lysithea gave it a dubious look but Hubert seemed familiar enough with it.

“Ah Enbarr, how I haven’t missed you,” sighed Hubert as he sucked in a deep breath.

“It smells weird here,” commented Lysithea as she studied the grime lining the cobblestones.

“Don’t stand so close to that gutter,” warned Dorothea. The girl hopped back as a fresh trickle of human waste washed down the street.

“This is where you’re from?” asked Felix as he looked between Hubert and Dorothea, “This explains so much.”

Hubert had the horses boarded outside of town so that he wouldn’t alert his father he was here. Dorothea had no intention of taking them anywhere near the palace; they would hitting up her favorite haunts from her Mittlefrank days. Felix had booked a fancy hotel for him and Lysithea, and Hubert and Dorothea would figure it out. 

They agreed to meet at Dorothea’s favorite bar, _Showtunes_. She was super excited to share her favorite parts of this gritty city with a few of her favorite people. 

***

Felix brushed his hair for the first time in a long time. He was determined to be the perfect boyfriend. No messing up and encouraging Dorothea to swoop in and do whatever Dorothea did to women. He looked at the map of places Dorothea had suggested and hesitantly cleared his throat, “I thought we could go to the big park over here —”

Lysithea exited the bathroom looking rather amazing with her hair done and a fresh new outfit. “Oh, well, actually I kind of thought we could go out with Dorothea and Hubert tonight.”

Felix did his best not to growl. Not Dorothea, not Hubert! He had just traveled for days to get here, why didn’t she want to hang out with him?

“Tomorrow, I’m completely yours,” promised Lysithea as she took his hands and looked up at him excitedly. “I do not want to see Dorothea or Hubert, or talk about them at all, tomorrow. But tonight, I have to make good on an offer I made.”

“What does that mean?” Felix wished it would just hurry up and be tomorrow already.

“I told Hubert I’d be his wing women, I have to get him laid,” said Lysithea.

“No,” said Felix, hoping that it didn’t sound like he was whining. “What the actual fuck? Why is that your job?”

“Because I ruined the ending of his book and crashed his vacation,” whispered Lysithea. “And he was even nice to me for like 80% of the trip.”

“But why do you have to find him someone to sleep with?” This was gross if not an impossible task! “Let’s just go to a graveyard, I’m sure we can find someone suitable there. Maybe a nice fresh burial.”

Lysithea smirked, “Be nice to Hubert.”

“He’s not nice to me,” protested Felix.

Lysithea shrugged, “Well, I like him and I’m asking you to be nice to him.”

Felix grumbled, “Fine.”

Lysithea beamed as she swung Felix’s hands, “Dorothea’s going to take us all singing, doesn’t that sound fun?”

“No,” muttered Felix as he stared at his super happy looking girlfriend.

They eventually found the bar, which was a pretty Dorothea place, and saw the two mages standing at high top table drinking. Dorothea had forced Hubert back into his ultra tight pants and shirt combo he had used when seducing Monica, and she was in a particularly skimpy red number. Felix had never seen a prostitute before, but the two mages looked like they were for sale in those get-ups.

Dorothea excitedly waved them over to join them. Felix awkwardly got root beer from the bar for himself and Lysithea and the bartender teased him about being out without a babysitter. This place was terrible, everyone was cackling and singing in high falsettos. Apparently this was the opera crowd. Ugh.

“So how does this singing work?” asked Lysithea hesitantly as she sipped at her very sweet root beer.

“Oh someone will start a number, and the whole bar joins in,” said Dorothea jovially.

“What if we don’t know the words?” challenged Felix. Ha, he’d caught the problem with the plan, they better leave.

“Make some up,” said Hubert. “That’s what I do, how do you think I get through choir practice?”

There were instruments being played with no rhyme or reason and Felix began to dread the spontaneous singing that was surely about to start. Dorothea was dancing in place and even Hubert was tapping his foot. This was Felix’s hell.

“We also love limericks here,” said Dorothea. “To pass the time between group songs, it’s a fun challenge to make them up.”

“Oh I love limericks,” smiled Lysithea, “What’s your favorite?”

Dorothea grinned wickedly as she stared at Felix, cleared her throat, and started to sing her favorite dumb limerick. The offensive one she had tortured Felix with for three days straight.

> _There once was a cold girl from Faerghus,_
> 
> _Her husband had incredibly large nuts,_
> 
> _He attempted his best,_
> 
> _To pass on his crest,_
> 
> _But her slit would always slap shut!_

Felix had had enough. Dorothea wasn’t even using proper rhymes. He knew he wouldn’t mind it as much if it were about someone not from Faerghus, but it stung and he wanted to draw blood too. He snapped back with his own limerick.

> _There once was a singer from Enbarr,_
> 
> _Whose ass was the size of a street car,_
> 
> _She had a loud voice,_
> 
> _That didn’t sound noice,_
> 
> _And her favorite place was the bar._

Lysithea gasped and Dorothea looked like she might actually cry as Hubert finished his drink, and launched into his own scathing attack,

> _In Fraldarius I met a real short bitch,_
> 
> _Who turned out to be a no good snitch,_
> 
> _He played with his sword,_
> 
> _Till his girlfriend got bored,_
> 
> _And the mean little boy got the ditch._

It wasn’t that good, but the point was clear: this was war. Lysithea looked mad now too as she stared at Hubert. She cleared her throat,

> _There once was a virgin dark mage,_
> 
> _Attending school in advanced age,_
> 
> _Make fun of his liege,_
> 
> _And you’ll come under siege,_
> 
> _Because his only emotion is rage._

“You’re truly a pair of savages,” muttered Hubert as he looked at Lysithea and Felix. “You deserve each other.”

“No more singing limericks,” growled Felix as he stared at Dorothea. He was actually incredibly pleased that Lysithea had come to his defense with the last one. It had been brutal as if she were facing the Death Knight, not making a rhyme about Hubert.

“Truce,” Dorothea muttered seeming highly subdued by the comparison of her backside to a carriage. Hubert whispered something in her ear and she laughed.

Felix frowned, “What?”

“I said you wouldn’t know a nice ass if it sat on your face,” snapped Hubert as he got up to go back to the bar.

As soon as he was gone, Lysithea pulled Dorothea and Felix in close, “Who can we get to sleep with him?”

“Uh,” Dorothea looked around the club, “I’m not sure, why?”

“Hubert really wanted to get laid on this trip and I cock blocked him, I’m trying to make it right,”

Felix felt like he was being cock blocked right now, where was the fairness in this?

“Is Hubert, straight? Gay?” suggested Dorothea as she looked around for potential one night suitors.

“I don’t know, I don’t think he knows either,” said Lysithea. “Frankly he just seems rather desperate, and it’s not a good look on him.”

“You realize you’re all practically shouting,” came Hubert’s unamused deep voice from behind them. He had four full shot glasses in his long fingers.

“I don’t drink,” said Felix.

“Who said they weren’t all for me?” asked Hubert as he set them down. He paused as he distributed the shots; two for Dorothea, two for himself, none for Lysithea and Felix. “You all don’t have to worry about hooking me up. I realized I would much rather spend my evening with you three morons than some stranger anyway.” He drank both his shots, “And anyway I’ve been thinking it over, and I don’t think an anonymous encounter is really right for my first time. I’d rather be with someone I know and trust.”

“Oh Hubie,” smiled Dorothea with a sarcastic glint in her eyes. “Romantic as ever.”

Felix stuck his tongue out at the idea and Lysithea nudged him to stop.

Hubert had gotten rather red, “Yes, well, let’s never bring this up again, ever.”

That was fine by Felix. The night was spent with far more singing than Felix needed for a lifetime. He was highly pleased when hours later, they were finally leaving. Hubert and Dorothea looked awkward with their bags. “I guess we’re going to have to try to crash somewhere,” said Dorothea uncertainly.

“Oh, please stay with us,” said Lysithea warmly. “We have two queen beds in the room! It’s perfect.”

_NO_. Felix’s brain was screaming. Suddenly arms were linked and Dorothea was humming her way in the direction of the hotel. Felix was never going on another group road trip again, this was the worst.

Things quickly came to a question of who would sleep where.

“Hey, no, I paid for this room, Lysithea and I will share a bed,” said Felix standing his ground.

“I don’t want to listen to you two hook up,” protested Dorothea.

“Then maybe you should leave,” suggested Felix.

“We’re not letting them sleep on the street,” said Lysithea as she yawned. “We’ll split girls and boys, like last night.”

Dorothea was already lounging on the bed with Lysithea, who was not paying attention to her. Dorothea raised up two fingers and held them to her lips as she wiggled her tongue at Felix and winked. Unfortunately for Dorothea, Hubert also witnessed this, “Stop being inappropriate.” He looked at the beds and frowned, “Dorothea and Felix, Lysithea and me. Satisfied?”

“No,” was the resounding chorus.

“Well, it seems Dorothea and Felix hate each other, and Lysithea and I have already shared two beds without any impropriety —” started Hubert.

Felix was suddenly pissed that Hubert had been sleeping alongside his girlfriend when he hadn’t even done that, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Lysithea looked like she might die of embarrassment, “Hubert! That was so you wouldn’t freeze to death —”

“So you were what, keeping each other warm?” Felix couldn’t imagine how this could get worse. He could feel his face getting hot as he thought about it.

“Just the one time,” grumbled Hubert. “And she’s a blanket thief so watch out.”

“And the other time?” Nothing in his life had prepared him to be jealous of Hubert of all people. This was insane.

“It was Ferdinand’s bed, that thing practically spans from Enbarr to Faerghus,” protested Hubert. “There was easily three feet between us.” Lysithea had gone a particularly deep shade of red.

“Ew, you slept with Lysi in Ferdie’s bed, I’m totally telling him,” laughed Dorothea.

“I’ll kill you before you do that,” warned Hubert.

“Yes please don’t,” whispered Lysithea. “But I agree with Hubert. I think this will be the most uh, contact-less arrangement.”

Felix and Dorothea exchanged murderous glances, but Hubert and Lysithea looked perfectly content. Dorothea began to build a pillow barrier on the bed she had to share with Felix. He growled at it, “Like I would ever want to touch you.”

“Be civil,” warned Hubert, although the normal scariness he conducted himself with was somewhat lessened by the presence of Peggles in his hands.

“You were just threatening to kill her,” muttered Felix under his breath as he ripped up the covers on his side of the bed and grumpily settled in for the night.

***

That night, as Hubert lay contemplating how to deal with his father, he did not have a single dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, writing limericks with fake places names from Fodlan is not that easy and I hated rhyming Faerghus, but I had already committed to it in chapter 5. Maybe there is some wisdom in actually sitting down and plotting things rather than making them up on the fly!
> 
> And re: the Marquis; I've been trying to reconcile what happens with him in the game and Hubert's general disdain vs. Hanneman and Hubert's support chain about him potentially protecting Hubert with the actions of the insurrection. I wanted to develop a character that was hate-worthy while still being honorable in some capacity. I introduced my vision of the Marquis in chpt. 8 of Monica von Ochs must Die, as a sort of drill sargent type that really verbally knocks Hubert out, and have been building him through Hubert's memories in this piece so far. I don't know if it works, and it probably doesn't fit with many people's versions of what he must be like, but it's been an interesting writing exercise. He will be the focus of the next chapter.


	8. Matters of Succession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a sad/smut sandwich.

**Day 7**

Hubert’s father was in his office reading a newspaper. He had his bifocals on but they hardly softened the former dark knight’s hardened looks. He might not have been a knight in the decades since he became the Marquis, but he was still the type to wake up every morning and keep to a strict regiment of diet, training, and exercise. He read the entire Adrestian Herald every morning from 8:30 to 9:30 without fail, and so Hubert had chosen to confront his father now so that he wouldn’t have to search him out in the palace later.

“I was wondering when you would show up,” said the Marquis as he looked up from the newspaper. “You made the front page with your little exploits this week.”

“I had my orders,” said Hubert quietly as he stared at his father. The Marquis’ head was freshly shaved and his salt and pepper goatee had nary a hair out of place. His typical uniform of a pair of charcoal slacks and pristine freshly pressed white shirt looked immaculate. In comparison Hubert looked like a slob with his hair that would never lay flat or stay out of his eyes, and his precious uniform had gotten wrinkled in the journey despite his efforts to keep it looking nice.

The Marquis sighed as he turned the page to the next news story, “Go on, I know you have a little monologue ready for me.”

Hubert was half tempted to just kill him here and get it over with wordlessly. He sighed and took a seat in the chair across from his father’s desk. “For many years, I was trying to be like you, someone you’d be be proud to call your son,” said Hubert. “Until one day I realized I was chasing a dream that made me feel like I was living in a nightmare, because there was nothing I could do to change myself into someone you would like, someone you would love.”

“You are exactly like me,” whispered the Marquis. He did not sound proud, nor ashamed, he was just stating a fact.

“No I’m not,” started Hubert. He wished his father would put that stupid paper down and pay attention to him.

“You’re finding peoples crimes, and punishing them in kind, I would say you are doing exactly what I’d do,” continued the Marquis. “You discovered Varely is an abusive beast, and so you found people to abuse him. You uncovered evidence of Aegir’s secret conspiracy. Now he awaits a public trial. You have always loved irony and drama, and here you are adding that flair to your duties to House Vestra.” He folded his newspaper neatly and laid it on the desk, “Have I missed anything?”

Hubert didn’t have a response. All the little speeches he’d rehearsed, and all the scenarios he’d ran through in his head faded away into the reality of what he was tasked to do.

The Marquis shook his head at Hubert’s silence. “I know you are hunting down participants of the Insurrection. I was obviously compliant with what happened, and I know you hate me for that.” His dark eyes seemed to be evaluating Hubert, dissecting him, “I do not need to lecture you about what we are. I am the Minister of the Imperial Household, not Minister of the Emperor. It is an important distinction that I hope you will come to recognize Hubert. You are fully dedicated to Lady Edelgard, but there will always be another Emperor to serve. In contrast, there is only one Adrestian Empire.”

He paused and stared at a frame on his desk. It was faced away from Hubert and he didn’t know what his father was looking at. The Marquis glanced back at his son, “That is what you do as a Vestra. You protect the Emperor until they threaten the Empire, and then you make way for the new ruler. Whether they’re too old, too foolish, or too eager to use dangerous things. You protect them from themselves.” His father sighed heavily, “And you try to protect everyone else from them.”

Hubert took in his father’s defense. He perfectly understood it, but he still could not rationalize the horrible things that had been done following the Insurrection, “But why the children, why kill off all but one of Ionius’ children?” What Hubert really desperately wanted to know was why did Edelgard alone survive when all her siblings died.

“Because it was as fair I could be,” stated the Marquis. “It was an even exchange of innocent lives lost between the families of Hyrm and Ordelia. Nine children from them, for nine Hresvelg children.”

Hubert shared this compulsion for eye-for-an-eye style justice more than he wanted to acknowledge. He took what people gave him, and paid them back in kind; at school when his peers rejected him, he took solace in rejecting them. He was not someone like Dedue, who could let the slights and hurts slide off him like water running down glass. Hubert was like a thorn bush ready to draw blood from anyone stupid enough to get too close.

His father was never one to draw out a conversation. He looked at Hubert now with a hardened glint in his dark eyes, “So what punishment have you determined for me? House arrest? Hardly appropriate since I live in this palace. Throw me in a dungeon? That might not be very fair considering the weight of Aegir’s crimes and that he is not in a dungeon, not yet anyway." He paused, "Shall you let the Agarthans experiment on me?”

Hubert’s blood had run cold at the flippant suggestion, “I would not even let them have people I hate.”

The Marquis licked his teeth, a tell that Hubert recognized. His father was impatiently waiting for Hubert to come up with the right answer. “Then I will make this easy for you son. We will have a duel. A public exchange for everyone to see. No speculation as to what conspired behind closed doors. No outside help, no poisons, no tricks. Just a father and a son determining the succession of House Vestra.”

Hubert felt his guts clenching up. His father had fought a number of duels, and he was very good at them since he was clearly very much alive. Hubert attempted to sound brave, but could only produce a single word, “When?”

“Might as well get this business done today,” said the Marquis. “No sense in drawing it out.”

“Where do we do this?”

“Right in front of the palace, a show for the streets of Enbarr,” growled the Marquis. He looked at his watch, “3 pm. Let the fools discuss the outcome over afternoon tea.”

“Wonderful,” whispered Hubert as he contemplated how he was going to die in approximately six hours.

His father shooed him, “Go on, I have work to do.” He got up and shut the door to his office leaving Hubert in the hall realizing there would be no more discussion.

***

Dorothea was alarmed as she saw Hubert stumbling from the corridor with the Marquis’ office and into where he’d left her looking at portraits of long dead Hresvelg royalty.

“How did it go?” Dorothea figured she had a good idea based on his expression that things had not gone well.

“He’s going to kill me this afternoon,” whispered Hubert looking much paler than usual. “He challenged me to a duel.”

“Oh,” managed Dorothea. She didn’t really know what to do. Did one hug someone who was about to get killed by their father?

He had doubled over and was hyperventilating, Dorothea tried to help him up, “Let’s not discuss this in the hall. Where’s your room?” Hubert nodded but didn’t say anything as he started to walk unsteadily towards the stairs.

They kept going until they were on the lowest level. Hubert led her down some extremely plain hallways and stopped at an unassuming door. It was cold in the basement of the palace and Hubert’s room had the smallest fireplace Dorothea had ever seen. His hands shook as he put a log on it and used magic to light it. He looked at her shivering and mumbled an apology as he took off his cloak and draped it over her. She saw his bag in the corner of the room, and his travel clothes neatly piled from when he had come down here to get changed into his intimidating uniform. These were the only clues the room belonged to him.

There were bells along the wall that were labeled: Bedroom, Dining room, Throne Room, and so on. Dorothea realized these were all for Edelgard to signal when she needed Hubert to attend her. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was barely a noble. These were essentially servant’s quarters. She had always pictured Hubert as preferring a dark room with crimson accented furniture and curio cabinet of assorted animal skulls and poisonous looking plants. The truth was that his room had boring cream colored walls, a single bright widow that was at lawn level, and was exceedingly empty. He had a bed, and he had a desk with a bookshelf that held a few worn looking titles. She recognized some of them, they were classic plays, all dramas. The most interesting looking thing was the cello in the corner, “You play?”

“Oh, Edelgard wanted to learn violin, so I learned cello to accompany her,” said Hubert softly. Dorothea could completely picture Edelgard killing it as the focus of a quartet on her violin with Hubert quietly providing the deep background tones of the cello to balance out the sound.

“Will you play for me?” She wanted to distract him so that he could calm down.

“I haven’t practiced in months,” whispered Hubert as he got up and walked over to the cello in its case. He got it out and quietly tuned it, taking off his gloves to do so. His beat up looking hands were in sharp contrast to the very fine looking instrument, but his long fingers were perfect for stretching across the fingerboard. “What do you want to hear?”

“What’s your favorite thing to play?”

“Oh,” muttered Hubert as he thought it over. He started into a minor key piece she didn’t recognize. It was slow and mournful, before picking up into a steady and almost aggressive refrain. There was an anger to the composition and an underlying sadness that seemed to match Hubert quite well. He let it trail off as he finished, “That’s what I hear in my head when I’m just out on the battlefield far from everyone else.”

Dorothea clapped softly, “You’re really good.”

Hubert cracked a weak grin, “Well, I had to keep up with someone as talented as Lady Edelgard, so I had to practice a lot.” He put the bow aside and gently leaned the cello against its stand. He didn’t look much better, but his head did seem clearer.

Hubert took a deep breath as he looked around the room, “My father has fought in a number of duels, and clearly, he’s never lost.”

“Do you really think he’s going to kill you?”

“I think he’s going to try,” said Hubert. “He’s a very _fair_ person. He’ll give it his best.” Hubert swallowed uneasily, “There’s a good chance he’s going to brutally maim me even if he doesn’t outright kill me.” Hubert began to pace, the panic seeping back in, “Fuck. I had stuff I wanted to do before I die.”

“Hubie, you have to calm down, you’re definitely going to lose if you let yourself get hysterical,” said Dorothea nervously.

“All I wanted to do was to take a vacation by myself, read my book, and maybe get laid,” muttered Hubert bitterly as he rubbed his temples.

“Well we can take care of at least one of those things,” offered Dorothea boldly.

“Why on earth would you do that?” He did not seem amused at all.

Dorothea bit her lip, “Well, if you die then I don’t have to break up with you —”

“Shut up,” he whispered, smirking despite the gravity of their situation.

“I’m serious Hubert. I don’t want to date you, but I would be lying if I said I never speculated about why you wear such ridiculous large pants,” said Dorothea as she looked at them now on him.

“I told you, it’s just for the pockets,” growled Hubert. She didn’t believe him, she had seen him in those tight pants that left no room for speculation.

Dorothea made room on his bed and gestured for him to sit beside her, which he did with great reluctance. “Look, I did not want to be friends with you when we first met. I thought you were mean and nasty, and I was super mad that you were standing in my way with Edie.” She pushed his bangs out his eyes; the shape of them and the persistent dark circles beneath them were nothing handsome, but his eyes themselves, glittering like peridot stones, were actually quite attractive. “However, after getting to know you, I think you care a whole lot more about people other than Edie then you’re willing to admit, and that’s very sweet. Plus you make me laugh way more than anyone else at Garreg Mach.” She slid her hand over his thigh, “Hubert von Vestra, I would be honored to take your virginity before you die.”

“Why would you want it?” He averted his eyes and sounded very conflicted.

She had already made her mind that this was happening, “Because I do, okay?” She sighed, “Look, no one was more surprised than me when you managed to become one of my best friends at school. You’re one of the only guys who’s not actively trying to get into my skirt, you’re smart, you’re more dramatic than I am, and you make me crack up. So, last offer, you can say no, but I’m serious and I will sleep with you right here, right now.”

He looked at her slightly panicked, and she knew he was going to get up and walk away while telling her she was begin crazy. Then he kissed her.

Hubert didn’t waste too much time on her lips before he pushed up her skirt, “Talk me through this,” he said breathlessly as he slid her underwear down and gently spread her legs apart. He stared at her privates as one might appreciate a painting in a gallery, just in utter awe of her.

“You’re just going for it?” she teased. “No foreplay?”

“I want to eat you out until you scream,” whispered Hubert and then he paused, “No, until you sing.”

“Oh,” said Dorothea, taken by surprise. She usually had to ask guys to eat her out, because they so rarely offered. She adjusted her position to give him room as he went in with his mouth. “Okay, okay, focus at the top, and uh, pretend you’re signing your name with your tongue.” She coached him through it and Hubert proved to be a very good student. He was also fucking persistent and eventually switched to his fingers when finally he took a breather. His thumb had found her clit and was just punishing it as he fingered her, making it very difficult to keep talking.

“I think I grind my teeth when I sleep,” muttered Hubert in the least sexy way possible, “My jaw really hurts.”

“Then stop talking and just get inside me already,” she moaned. She didn’t want to hear about his TMJ pain while they were doing it.

He pulled back his fingers and started to unbutton his pants. Dorothea shook her head, “We’re doing this totally nude, it’s only right that I see all of you.”

Hubert looked at her and swallowed uneasily, but didn’t protest. He started to take off his military uniform.

“Avert your eyes Peggles,” declared Dorothea dramatically as she got up and placed the stuffed animal on his desk, and faced its little button eyes away from the bed. She fumbled with her own overly complicated dress until Hubert hopped over to help her. He was still in his shirt and pants as he got her completely undressed. For once in his life Hubert had nothing clever to say as he drank her in.

Dorothea pulled at his shirt and started to unbutton it. She knew he had scars and that he was trying to hide them, but she didn’t quite understand the extent of it until she finally saw them. He was torn up like a soldier in a war she no idea was being fought. She tried not to make him feel self conscious about the scars and pulled down his pants to reveal his erection, “Ha! I knew you had a big dick!”

Hubert awkwardly pumped it with his hand, “I don’t know if I’d say big, it’s me sized I guess.” As if he weren’t one of the biggest guys at school.

He definitely was not the most attractive man she’d ever seen, far from it really. He wasn’t muscular like Sylvain, his face was angular and gaunt compared to the princely looks of Ferdinand, and he was almost translucent he was so pale in contrast to someone like Claude. But he was toned and strong enough to scoop her off her feet and carry her to the bed like it was nothing to him, and that was very appealing to her.

“If you finish inside me, I’ll kill you before your dad gets the chance,” she threatened.

He started to kiss her exposed neck, “What, you don’t want a hideous baby to remember me by?”

“Uh no kid of mine would be ugly, but no thank you,” protested Dorothea as she clamped her legs around his ribs.

Hubert took a deep breath and then entered her. Whatever biting retort he might have been contemplating was lost as he started to rhythmically move inside her like a guy who knew he was about to die in a couple hours. She’d always imagined that Hubert was into weird or violent sex, but this was tender and focused. It was like all he wanted was her to be happy, and have all her needs met. It clicked in her head as she thought about his service to Edelgard; of course he would show the same single minded devotion in the bedroom. Except right now instead of being fully committed to the princess, he was fully committed to Dorothea. The very thought made her chest feel warm and flushed.

He didn’t speak, in fact he made almost no noise at all. In contrast Dorothea loved to moan, sometimes in over the top exaggerated ways, to let him know when he did something she liked so that he would do it more. Yet she could hear his breathing subtly changing and watched his face betraying him. He was enjoying himself too.

Eventually he tapped her legs in a panic. “Okay let me go,” he pleaded as he pulled out and finished off to the side. He crawled back into the bed after he’d cleaned himself up and pulled the covers over them to protect them from the chilly room as he held her. He moved her now with far more confidence then he had before so that her head was on his shoulder. He snaked one of his long arms around her back and let his hand come to rest on the little stretch between her navel and the start of her pubic hair. She hated that spot on her body because she felt it never looked right, but the way Hubert’s fingers brushed over it made seem like he had discovered the most beautiful thing in the world.

His other hand tipped her chin up towards him. His rough fingers lightly grazed her lips lightly tickling them. They looked at each other in a stunned happy silence for a few moments while her hand settled over his heart, feeling it still pounding.

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t get you to orgasm,” he apologized quietly.

“Wait, why do you think I didn’t?” She definitely had when he was aggressively eating her out.

“Well, I don’t know what all the sounds you make mean,” protested Hubert. “It’s like a code I haven’t cracked yet.”

“I’ll make sure to announce it next time —”

“Next time?” His eyes crinkled with amusement as he lightly kissed her on the tip of her nose.

She blushed, “Assuming you survive!” She let her fingers run along the ridges of his scars. She didn’t regret sleeping with him, but she did regret not considering ahead of time what she was going to do if he was any good. A joke felt like her best defense, “You know, maybe we could invite Edie —”

Hubert swiftly pinched her on the ass, “I’m throwing you in a dungeon if you ever suggest that again.”

Dorothea yelped and retaliated by flicking him in the nipple, “You’d like that wouldn’t you, chaining me up!”

Hubert sneered but didn’t say anything as he kissed her in a way that made her just want to stay in this bed with him all day and stop joking about dungeons and three-ways. His wicked cellist fingers found their way back inside her as he started to play her like his instrument. “I want to learn what all your little secret sounds mean,” he whispered in her ear. Dorothea was happy to oblige as she let out a small breathy moan.

Eventually they decoupled. Hubert rubbed his brow and stared at the ceiling, “I don’t want to duel my father.” She didn’t want him to either, but neither of them really had a choice at this point.

***

Duels to the death were relatively rare in Enbarr these days, but not unheard of and not illegal. When both parties agreed to a fight for honor, it was considered a very manly way to die. Hubert did not feel very manly as he signed the paperwork in front of the magistrate his father had brought to oversee the legal aspects of the duel. They would be fighting primarily with magic today, but the Marquis had his lance and Hubert had his knives. There would be blood for sure.

“So were you attempting to shame me to death earlier by fucking that loud woman in your room?” The Marquis muttered it under his breath for Hubert’s ears alone. “The whole palace could hear those ridiculous moans.”

Hubert went full on Adrestian crimson as he finished up his signatures. He wanted to yell at his father that the noises Dorothea made were beautiful music, not ridiculous moans, but all he managed was a grunt. _Pathetic_. The Marquis barely had to try to get under his son’s skin. Perhaps his father could just drop Meteor on him right now and get things over with.

People were crowding to get a good view of the coming carnage. Word had spread like wildfire after the declaration that morning. The Marquis had conducted a total of fifteen formal public duels over the years. Almost all of them were carried out on behalf of the Emperor, but occasionally the Marquis had ended a personal feud or two with such spectacle. Plus Hubert had earned himself a little notoriety in the papers thanks to the unexpected coverage of what had happened with Count Varley and Prime Minister von Aegir. It felt like all of Enbarr was here to watch. He was glad Edelgard was not in the capital to see this embarrassing show. He wondered if she would weep when news of his untimely demise reached her. He expected she would privately, but publicly she’d probably just be disappointed at this foolish attempt to deal with his father. He deserved it.

Hubert took a deep breath as he was forced to look his father in the eye and shake his hand, “I wish we could have settled this differently.”

His father didn’t smile, but didn’t look upset, as he nodded. They marched to their respective corners. Hubert looked out at the crowd briefly and saw the white flash of Lysithea’s hair as she and Felix fought their way towards the front where Dorothea was presently standing. He really wished she wouldn’t stare at him like he was about to die.

Hubert stopped looking at the crowd and only had eyes for his father. He couldn’t afford to be distracted as the magistrate read off the rules. They could each fire off three spells. If one of them was mortally wounded, the duel was done. If three spells passed and neither was dead, they could elect to duel again after a requisite waiting period of at least two days. Hubert had a feeling that his father would absolutely duel him again in two days, and so on until one of them was eliminated. Hubert summed up his courage, he had to make sure this was the only duel. 

The flag was waved and they were clear to start. Hubert watched his father closely as the sun glinted off his shaved head. The Marquis did not wait long before sending Thoron Hubert’s way. He was hit as he returned with Mire, which completely missed his father. Hubert’s chest hurt viciously from the Thoron blast as he desperately tried Banshee to reduce his father’s movement. That did hit and he heard his father grunt as he found himself rooted into place.

Hubert knew he had mere seconds to send off Dark Spikes. He’d been practicing at school and on the road with Lysithea, and if it worked, it was the most powerful spell he had. He could only cast once more and Hubert knew in his heart that if he suffered another hit he was done for.

Hubert stood and yelled the spell as he moved his hands, and watched in horror as at the same time the Marquis conjured a blinding bright Agnea’s Arrow. That was the most powerful spell his father could use and the one he always chose to kill people with. The flashes of purple impaled his father stuck in place as the monstrously powerful arrow hurtled at Hubert’s head. His ear seared and he smelled burning hair as the force of the passing spell knocked him from his feet and down onto the stony platform they were fighting on.

Hubert couldn’t hear out of his ringing right ear and he felt warm blood streaming down the side of his face. He ignored his injuries as he forced himself to his feet and tore towards his father. He didn’t care that the Marquis still had a spell he could use or a lance to impale his son with. None of that mattered right now.

His father would not be using another magic attack. He was on his back looking up at the sky, his face a wreck and blood stains covering his always pristine white shirt. Hubert sank to his knees as he tried to lift his barely conscious father up, “You fucking missed me on purpose.” He knew his father very well; if that man wanted Agnea’s Arrow in Hubert’s heart it would have been.

His father clutched at Hubert’s shirt with one great big bloody hand and pulled Hubert in close, “You’re my son, of course I missed.” His lids went slack and his dark eyes didn’t seem to be focusing any longer as his grip released Hubert and his hand fell to the ground. The world blurred. Hubert had just won the duel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA! This has whole series has been a dorobert long con the whole time... Back at Garreg Mach, Sylvain stops what he's doing and feels a great disturbance in the force. Oh yes, and also Hubert just had to publicly kill his father without having time to process his complicated feelings about him.


	9. The Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The coronation occurs and things start falling into place. Hubert thinks he has no friends...but he does, although Ferdinand is not one of them (yet).

Byleth stormed out of the carriage and to everyone’s alarm grabbed both Felix and Dorothea by their shirts, “You idiots nearly gave me a heart attack!” Hubert watched indifferently as Edelgard, Ferdinand, Caspar, Linhardt, Bernadetta and Petra all spilled out of the carriage behind the professor. Apparently almost everyone was attending the coronation now. Flayn was absent.

The professor was continuing to yell at Dorothea, Felix, and Lysithea, “You brats can’t just leave the monastery with no note! I had to make up a fake field trip to retrieve you before anyone noticed, I could lose my job!” Since her transformation, Byleth had become noticeably more emotional. It was jarring to have the normally stoic woman wavering between relief at her students’ safety, and just utter explosive anger at their actions.

Hubert sighed and retreated from the scene, he had other matters to attend to, like cleaning out his father’s office. The headline about the duel still read PATRICIDE AT THE PALACE. Hubert decided that starting the ritual of reading the Enbarr Herald could wait until tomorrow as he unlocked his father’s office. Servants were very, very quiet around him in the halls. He’d effectively killed their boss and replaced him without warning. He was also a sight to behold right now; his bangs barely covered over where the Agnea’s Arrow had grazed along the side of his head. It would heal over in time, but right now he was bruised and burned all along the right side. In the last two days he hadn’t slept or really eaten; he looked more like a corpse then the body of his father he’d just buried. People were deftly avoiding him, even more so than usual, and he could hardly fault them for it.

Hubert entered his father’s office for the first time since the duel. He sat at the desk, which he had never been behind in his life, and looked out at the view his father had held for the last twenty some years since he became Marquis. The office was clean and organized, much like his father, and a single out of place envelope sat addressed to Hubert in the very center of the large desk.

Hubert swallowed at the idea of reading his father’s last words, and looked instead at the trinkets on his father’s desk. They were not a family that was big on possessions or decor so it was interesting to see frames on the desk with charcoal drawings. His father always kept a small sketchbook on him. He said he practiced quickly drawing to keep a keen eye and maintain a record of things in a room — looking for potential weapons, things out of place, knowing the exits and layout, etc — but Hubert suspected he just liked the hobby.

A large portrait of a woman, smiling, no, smirking, dominated Hubert’s view. She had dark hair, long and wavy, and light eyes. She looked like she was laughing at something that was not meant to be funny. Thin and bony, that would be Hubert’s mother. His father’s sharp letters always left little comments at the borders of his drawings: _Your face when I finally proposed. You thought I was joking. ‘57. (Joke’s on you, you’re stuck with me now!)_.

A smaller framed drawing was beside it and this had been the one Hubert’s father had paused to look at when they had met in his office just days prior. It was of Hubert as a chubby cheeked toddler in profile, short curling dark hair falling towards his eyes, and his little fingers were clutching a stuffed pegasus. _Its name today is “Peggles”, apparently. ‘63_.

There was another that drew his attention on the opposite side of the desk. This one had been done in haste and had much less detail. The thin rushed lines gave it a sense of motion. Hubert was older in it, perhaps seven or eight, and he was giving Edelgard a piggyback ride. Her small arm was pointing forward like she was leading a charge on her trusted steed. _My fool son is in love. ‘68_.

The last one was Hubert as a teenager, after the dark seal had been added to him. He did not look especially thrilled to be posing for one of his dad’s stupid charcoal recordings. His hair was deliberately obscuring a bit of his face, and his eyes were rimmed with dark circles that made it look like he never slept, because in those days he really wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t frowning per say but his lip was twitched up in the beginnings of a sneer, which almost seemed worse. Why his father would choose to frame that one, the one in which he looked so angry and annoyed, Hubert would likely never understand. It was a brutally honest depiction of him, with no embellishments to soften what he actually looked like. The note was a little smaller, _Teach Hubert how to smile. Might need to hire a professional. ‘75_.

He had no idea that his father spent each morning surrounded by pictures of his son. He flipped the frames over so he didn’t have to look at the visions of his past self. The other items on the desk were less personal; an inkwell, a two headed eagle paperweight, a medal for some service. Hubert sighed and picked up the unsealed letter. Another small hasty charcoal drawing slipped out, of Hubert the morning of the duel, sitting across from his father looking resigned. _1180_. No snappy comment, no criticism, just the year.

_To Hubert:_

_I suppose congratulations are in order. If you are reading this, you are now the Marquis von Vestra and you have won your first public duel. <strike>Given the way you conduct yourself, I highly doubt it will be your last. Keep up your training, you’re going to need it.</strike>_

_There it is again, the need to snipe at you. I suppose you got that compulsion from me. I rationalize my lectures as making you better, helping you survive, but I know you do not look forward to my critiques and lessons. I have heard you are now inclined to do the same to others. I’m sure they fail to appreciate it._

_ <strike>I blamed your mother for leaving, I blamed you for taking her, and I blamed myself for falling prey to these feelings. Perhaps someday you will be a kinder father than I have managed to be.</strike> _

_I do not regret my actions in the Insurrection. I hope that in your tenure as Minister of the Imperial Household that you never face a decision like that. Perhaps if you do, however, you will make a different choice than me. You are already doing things I would never do. I smiled when I read what you did to Varley. I cheered when I heard what happened to Aegir. And I waited while wondering what you would do to me._

_I challenged you to a duel to measure the man you have become, and the man you might someday be. I selfishly chose it because it will give me a dignified death compared to a drawn out trial for treason, for which I would most certainly face a noose at the end. I challenged you because this will spare you the specter of speculation of why you removed me from power._

_That is what it means to be a Vestra: you make the hard choices so that others do not have to. You make the hard choices because you are strong enough to bear the consequences. I have no doubts you can beat me in a duel; you have always been very good at killing. Perhaps someday, you will become good at living._

_Sincerely,_

_Marquis von Vestra_

For his father, this had been an incredibly candid letter. There were little bits crossed out that somehow made the letter matter that much more. His father hadn’t rehearsed this, and hadn’t taken the time to rewrite it after drafting it out. This was rushed writing and a moment captured like his little charcoal sketches. Hubert decided this was something worth framing. This was his office now, and he got to choose what was important to look at.

Hubert cautiously opened the frame containing the particularly gruesome portrait of himself as a teenager, and other earlier portraits were behind it, apparently the one from 1175 was the last one his father had done, poured out. It made sense that was the most recent one; 1175 was when he’d left home the second time, on official business but still running away. It was when he’d begun to travel Adrestia on Edelgard’s behalf to start laying the groundwork for this war. Hubert spread the portraits out in chronological order. They spanned from ‘65 to ‘75 and told a story of a boy growing up, but not happily and not easily. It was a good reminder to see it all laid out; life wasn’t all charming charcoal drawings and sarcastic notes. It was the ups and downs of a man who didn’t expect to be left alone raising a son who was eager to please and overly anxious about failing. It was the see-saw of insanely high expectations mandated by tradition and harsh punishments deemed fair. It was easy to take a moment in time and feel nostalgic, but it was a lot more honest to lay out everything and see the full picture.

This was why Hubert was not made for condolences. He couldn’t let go of the bad and only focus on the good when it came to talking about the dead. Sure, his father had been the honorable man Hanneman knew and admired. Yet his focus on honor and fairness had also been a bit of a poison; just because something was a Vestra tradition didn’t make it right. He was also the man who had let the Agarthans stay, and gave them the run of the palace. He was a man who stood by and let children die in the name of honor.

Hubert’s dark seal was burning hot beneath his skin. It was dramatic irony, his favorite, that the very thing his father had used to make him stronger was what enabled Hubert to kill him in the end. Hubert had not memorialized his father’s grave with a stone; he did not need a cheerful or biting epitaph to reminisce by. Instead Hubert carried features of his father and Marquis’ lessons with him always. The dark seal beneath his skin, the family cheekbones and their intimidating air, the need to lecture, the compulsion to point out flaws, the fear of getting too close to anyone because they could always be taken without warning, and finally the voice in his head where other people perhaps had a conscience. Hubert heard the Marquis in the back of his mind, ever criticizing, ever reminding him not to trust people, and always pointing out his flaws. Sometimes, when Hubert was feeling confident, he could ignore the voice. However, most of the time his self-loathing just fed his father’s whispering. Killing his father hadn’t silenced the voice, instead, it had just made it louder.

***

Ionius IX spoke his words, “By the covenant between the red blood and the white sword, and by the double headed eagle upon your head, I hearby pronounce you the new emperor.” And Edelgard responded in kind promising to achieve peace. Hubert cringed at the prescribed script he had dug up in the recesses of the records office. Edelgard wanted everything as by the book as possible, even if it meant lying. Both knew there would be no peace, not for a long time.

Byleth’s attendance was being treated as an official observation thanks to a couple of bribes. The papers were signed and the crown, specially made, now adorned Edelgard’s head. Like two great glittering rams horns it framed her face. She would beat herself against the church drawing blood with those things. Kneeling before her father, Edelgard looked up at Ionius with pride and love.

Edelgard blamed the Prime Minister, the Marquis, the seven, anyone but her father for the horrors that rained down upon her as a child. Hubert didn’t have the heart any more to argue, she had seen her father rendered politically impotent, and she could not see the seeds of his destruction that he had helped to sow. The new Emperor, for all her vision, could be incredibly narrow in her gaze where her family was concerned.

He wanted to say that he was proud, but he was just tired. There had been a great deal of last minute preparations put into accommodating all the extra unexpected attendees to the coronation, and Hubert had not slept in days at this point. He was going on coffee and more coffee.

Edelgard had requested a special dinner for her father and her classmates and Hubert had obliged her. They sat around a big table now with Edelgard flanked by Hubert and Ionius. Byleth was teaching Ionius some vulgar mercenary limerick and Hubert didn’t have the energy to stop her.

“I read about the duel,” whispered Edelgard. “I’m very proud of the way you saw things through.”

Hubert wished she would not bring it up. The Marquis’ voice whispered in Hubert’s ears, _She wanted this outcome, what a good dog you are. Wait, no not a dog, dogs can at least be happy. Something less, then._ The voice was as clear as if his father was standing right behind him. This wasn’t a conscience, this was psychosis. The stress and lack of sleep were finally crashing down on him in a violent way. The voice continued to hiss inside Hubert’s head as he looked around the room at the post coronation celebration.

_She can’t even look at you, but why would she want to?_ It hurt deeply to have Dorothea unable to spare him more than fleeting glances. He was under no delusions they were going to become lovers, but he had apparently been under the impression that he had friends.

He looked at Felix and Lysithea sitting and happily chatting,_ She’ll join this war, he won’t. You’ll have broken them up and they’ll both resent you_. The professor, _She won’t join the cause, you should have put her down before she got god-like powers, you idiot_. His eyes found Ferdinand, _He’s repulsed of you, as he should be_. Bernadetta was listening to something Dorothea was just bursting to tell her, _She’s always had you figured out, she’s right to be scared_. Caspar and Linhardt, _Continue to lecture them, continue to push them away; you always were shit at connecting with boys_. Lastly Petra, _Ignore that she’s her own person and keep comparing her to Edelgard, I’m sure she just loves that_. Hubert was just sane enough to know that this voice wasn’t real, but damn did it not cut through him like his father was still alive.

“May I please be excused?” whispered Hubert to Edelgard.

Her brow tensed but she nodded. The first course had not even come out yet, but Hubert got up and left the table. No one stopped him, to which the auditory hallucination of his father just sighed. No one had asked how he was feeling, because doing so would imply that they believed him to have feeling. If his own allies thought he was something below an animal, he could only imagine how their enemies would view him once they went to war.

He wandered down the stairs not to his old room but to the Marquis’, his ‘new’ apartments within the palace. They were where he grew up until he took his room where Edelgard could summon him directly. He walked through the apartment now and realized already that the subtle smells of coffee and sulfur that clung to him had started to mark the space as his own, and masking the scent of his father away. Hubert looked at the simple table where he and his father often shared their quiet meals. He looked into the nearly empty rooms, including his childhood bedroom. It was long since cleaned out, which he expected hadn’t taken very long, an unwritten slate waiting for its next purpose. How could he possibly hope to fill the spaces his father had left behind?

Hubert went into his new bedroom, his father’s old room, and sat on the bed. He’d had the mattress replaced, and what he had been brought might as well been a slab of marble for how firm it was. Much of the rest of the room remained untouched for now as he contemplated how to make it his own.

He caught sight of his reflection in the tiny mirror his father kept for shaving. He looked extra horrible right now. He needed to sleep. In his books and plays the villains’ appearances were always reflecting the badness inside them; Hubert rather thought that his exterior was what was blocking any light from getting in.

Hubert had been trying to sleep, but the stupid voice was keeping him awake and it was getting louder. He pulled himself up and forced himself to his father’s medicine cabinet. It was well stocked with all the things needed to make people well and make people worse. Hubert quietly gathered the ingredients for an old standby sleep draught. He saw his fingers shaking as he measured out the components. Just one mistake at the wrong step and he might not wake up. Right now in this moment, that did not seem so terrible. Yet it completely was the most terrible thought he’d had in a long time and so Hubert triple checked his math. He just needed a few hours, something to force him through the night.

***

When all was said and done, Edelgard went to Hubert. For all the time he spent alone, she knew how much he hated actually being alone. They both did, and so they both always sought out the other. His trips away were always hard on her, but he always made good on his promises to come back.

Edelgard was a bit ashamed that she had to ask for someone to actually show her around the basement of the palace. She had lived here for years and yet the servants floor was the one she had spent the least amount of time in. She had spent plenty of time beneath it, but never walking through it. Her suggestions that Hubert move up towards the second, or gasp, third floor where she slept were resoundingly shot down. She suspected he actually liked the basement, not to lurk in, but for the comfort of familiarity. Her domain was in the intimidating grandeur of the imperial chambers, his was in the quiet simplicity of the lower levels that stayed firmly hidden out of view.

Hubert was on top of his covers still in his clothes and completely passed out. Edelgard cautiously set down her candle on the nightstand and climbed onto the bed. She moved slowly because Hubert was not a person to startle, ever. She grimaced, there was no way he could find this firm mattress comfortable. She knew his preferences inside and out and if there was one thing Hubert loved it was a high thread count and a thick duvet to hide in. He didn’t sleep long but he enjoyed making the most of his limited time in bed. Yet that didn’t jibe with the hardened image he had cultivated, and so he had ended up in this laughable slab for a bed. She spied Peggles tightly hugged in his arms and smiled, some things never changed, image be damned. Edelgard paused as her fingers grazed over the painful looking bruise on the side of Hubert’s face. A parting gift from the Marquis. Dorothea has said that Hubert’s ear was totally gone, but here it was, just a slightly less big than it used to be.

Edelgard scratched her gloved fingers into Hubert’s hair and smiled softly at the way his head moved. It was like he was a cat trying to press up into the scratch. She rarely saw him sleeping, let alone deeply, even though she suspected that he had often spied her snoozing. He wasn’t waking up though, and Edelgard decided she’d just have a private chat with him tomorrow, perhaps at breakfast. It was complicated having everyone around. She’d gotten into certain details in the carriage ride about her private life that she had been moved to share, and it was important that Hubert know what she had divulged. He would probably lecture her about loose lips, but Edelgard had felt it was necessary to explain before they showed up to steal the crest stones in less than two weeks from now. She’d let him rest for now, he’d earned it.

***

A pulse of green and a soothing snap of white magic permeated through Hubert’s sleeping eyes. Someone was waking him up by force. Reflexively, Hubert made to grab his preferred knife, the one he always kept strapped to his thigh, but he was groggy and a firm hand prevented him from retrieving the blade.

“Hubert,” came an annoyed sigh. “If you attempt to draw a knife on me again, I’ll,” Linhardt paused, “I’ll get Caspar to punch you. And I won’t heal you afterward.”

Caspar could be heard giving a whooping sound of approval. Hubert squinted in the unexpected daylight and looked around. It seemed like all the Black Eagles were crowding around him in his room.

“Why are you in here?” growled Hubert as he sat up. His body felt extremely weak, which was not how he wanted to wake up. His mouth was also criminally dry and his head was pounding.

“We are being worried about you!” said Petra as she stood on her tip toes for better view over the small crowd at his bedside.

Dorothea swept him into a very tight hug, “You’ve been sleeping for almost two days.”

“No,” said Hubert as he struggled against her, “I did the potion for six hours.”

He could see Linhardt holding up the paper where Hubert had been sleepily checking his math for the sleep draught, “Six hours? Hubert, this is for six days.”

That was a sobering fact. A six day sleep draught was lethal. All he could manage was a very weak, “Oh.”

Dorothea finally released him and looked at Hubert in a way that he couldn’t tell if she were angry or scared. Perhaps she was a bit of both, “Were you trying to kill yourself?”

“No,” protested Hubert. “I just made a mistake.” He paused as he felt their eyes upon him, “Honestly, I was tired and I made a mistake.”

“So you are human after all,” snorted Felix with contempt.

“You look extra gaunt,” Lysithea was now poking at him. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t remember,” grumbled Hubert. He was incredibly hungry and extremely dehydrated.

“Well then you need food,” Byleth’s strong voice cut through the crowd. Was everyone here?

“I think we need a group hug first,” yelled Caspar and Hubert was powerless to protest as all their bodies converged upon him at once. Hubert was overwhelmed by the warm crush that was their friendship.

When they had finished smothering him, Hubert was able to take stock of who was here, and who wasn’t. Lysithea was forcing him to move over as she claimed her seat, and Bernadetta was nervously hiding behind Caspar as the two made way for Byleth who was writing down everyone’s lunch orders. Hubert’s protests were uniformly ignored as they collectively decided they were taking their afternoon meal in his bedroom. He did not see Edelgard, which hardly surprised him. She had to be incredibly busy right now. Ferdinand was also absent.

Hubert was humbled by the fretting and the caring that all the Black Eagles were pouring over him. Sure, they were too loud and didn’t seem to care that they were getting crumbs and food all over his bed, but he was grateful for the concern. Here in this chaos of cakes and sandwiches being passed around and shared, the taunting voice in Hubert’s head didn’t seem to be able to shout above their noise. Instead their presence was drowning out the Marquis, and taking away his power.

***

Ferdinand was in the stables. He found caring for horses to be incredibly soothing. Horses listened, and horses didn’t make one feel irrational about their feelings. Right now, he had a lot of feelings.

His father was facing a trial and, based on what Edelgard had calmly explained in the carriage ride here, Ferdinand was not feeling optimistic about the outcome. His father was embroiled in a major political scandal, and was going to be tried for treason. The punishment for that was execution.

Ferdinand felt like a coward staying here at the Imperial palace instead of being with his no doubt frightened family at their estate in Enbarr. He was afraid to go; if he visited, would he too be kept under house arrest? Edelgard had assured him no, but Ferdinand was having trouble trusting anyone right now.

Ferdinand sighed and kept brushing the horse. He looked up as he heard someone walking into the stables, and his heart dropped because it was the last person he wanted to see. Hubert was holding a big, yet familiar, wood box.

“Uh, I got you this tea,” said Hubert with an awkward, forced affect to his voice. “It’s a gift.”

“It’s not a gift if you simply stole it from my house,” whispered Ferdinand. He didn’t have a taste for tea at the moment. Since he’d heard about his father, nothing tasted good anymore.

“Can you please just take it?” ordered Hubert as he shoved the box into Ferdinand’s hands.

“I do not wish to speak to you,” said Ferdinand bluntly as he set the box down and turned back to the horse he was minding. He braced himself as he waited for Hubert to spit something vile at him. Instead Hubert just produced a carrot for the beautiful black horse and patiently fed it.

“I was under the impression you did not care for animals,” said Ferdinand curtly.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I did not think you liked anything other than Edelgard,” said Ferdinand. His anger was winning out over his desire to be noble.

“I’m sure you do not wish to hear this, but this is actually my horse,” said Hubert with a hint of fondness towards the mount.

Ferdinand cringed; of all the horses in the stables to pick out, why had he been drawn to this one? “Well I will not fault her for her master.”

“Just as I will not fault you for your father,” said Hubert as he picked up another brush and started to work on the horses other side.

Ferdinand wanted to throw his brush squarely at Hubert’s head, but he resisted. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, someone to go arrest or kill?”

Hubert did not smile or chuckle. Instead he was staring at Ferdinand, who wished he would stop. Ferdinand huffed, “Hubert, you are the very last person I want to see right now.”

“I am sorry you didn’t have any warning about your father,” whispered Hubert.

Ferdinand’s nostrils flared, “You had my siblings dragged from their beds. My father will be executed when he is finally tried. My future as prime minister is gone.” There was so much more he wanted to scream at Hubert. There was the matter of the raucous party thrown at his family home, and then there was Dorothea. Ferdinand had been nursing a crush on Dorothea for since arriving at Garreg Mach and yet of all the people in their house she hated him most. He felt like he was finally, after much effort, winning her over just a bit. Then he’d overheard her describing how she had slept with Hubert to Bernadetta over dinner following the coronation. It was enough to make his stomach turn. How she could hate Ferdinand, who only wanted to be good, and make love to someone as truly awful as Hubert baffled and confused him. The matter with his father was knife in Ferdinand’s heart, and this was further salt in his wounds.

“You still have a future,” said Hubert slowly.

“Really, as what, a court jester?” Ferdinand was seeing red.

“As one of Edelgard’s trusted advisers,” explained Hubert.

“She doesn’t listen to me, she finds me annoying,” sighed Ferdinand.

“She finds me annoying too,” promised Hubert. “And if you don’t advise her, well, then it will only be me whispering in her ear.”

“Well that would be a true tragedy,” snapped Ferdinand.

“Then you should stay,” suggested Hubert. “If only to spite me.”

Ferdinand narrowed in his gaze but said nothing. Hubert seemed to take the hint, finally, and excused himself. Ferdinand was fairly certain they would never, ever be friends. However, perhaps he was obligated to stay at Edelgard’s side, if only to counteract Hubert’s terrible influence. Ferdinand looked up at the horse, “As long as your rider insists on staying by the Emperor’s side, well, I, Ferdinand von Aegir, suppose I shall be forced to stay too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Road trip complete! 
> 
> When next we meet, five years into the war? I wrote a vignette of the Brigid paralogue before diving into this idea, and now I've started to form it into a full story of Adrestia's spy network as they fight the Alliance and move against the Kingdom. Featuring: dark knight Mercedes, King Dimitri, Hilda, etc; people getting married, people breaking up, hostage negotiations. Not everyone will survive.


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